Run in with the Feds
by Riley61
Summary: Maximum Ride is accused of murdering a Naval Officer. With NCIS in charge of the investigation, and Max in a constant struggle to get out of there as soon as possible, it's a wonder anyone gets out alive.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

I sat there glaring at the people behind the one-way mirror. My hands clenched under the metal table and I gritted my teeth in pain and frustration. The bare room was so small I was thinking of doing an up and out through the window, but that would land me nowhere. After all, these people had been competent enough to catch me once. Though it couldn't have been hard to do in my present state.

The door opened and in walked a young woman with wavy dark brown hair and chocolaty brown eyes. They had a hard edge that painfully reminded me of Fang's. The woman looked middle-eastern, and her accent and name confirmed it, "I am NCIS Agent David," she said, more out of protocol than actual greeting.

I remained silent and gave her my "Max Glare."

She sat down in the chair across from me and laid her folded hands on the table. Her body language told me that she didn't consider me a threat. And who would? I was a raggedy, bruised teenage girl who was a suspect in a case. I certainly didn't look threatening. "We will find out who you are eventually," she warned.

I almost laughed, "No you won't, I don't exist."

David looked slightly unnerved by that, but she continued on anyway, "Tell me, why did we find you at the crime scene of a dead naval officer?" I have to admit, Agent David's glare was one of the more formidable ones I'd encountered.

I leaned forward slightly, trying not to wince, "Tell _me_ agent, if you just killed somebody, would you stick around long enough for the feds to show?"

Instead of knocking her interrogation off balance with my reverse questioning like I'd planned, David considered the question, "No. So are you saying you did not kill Petty Officer Charigan?"

I smiled what would probably be considered a mischievous smile, "did I say that?"

David's eyes narrowed, "So you killed him."

My smile disappeared, "If I say no can I leave?" I asked in all seriousness.

David stood up and placed her dark hands flat on the tabletop, looking totally police-ish with her NCIS badge showing, "I do not appreciate getting fooled with."

I smirked, "And I don't appreciate being stuffed into a small interrogation room. I mean, jeez, you're government funded and you couldn't even spring for a piece of art?" not that I really even liked art.

The woman smiled and walked towards the door. Just as she was stepping out, she looked at me over her shoulder, "Just think, you will be begging for this room when you see your much smaller prison cell."

Instead of showing I was upset at the thought of more cramped spaces, I turned back to the one-way mirror. I gazed directly into the man's eyes on the other side who'd been there the entire time I'd been being questioned. He blinked in surprise that I looked right at him. _Thank you raptor vision._

The man looked in his mid-fifties. His hair was short and salt and pepper colored. His eyes were a pale, piercing blue. From his waist up (that's all I could see in the window), he looked very fit. The man was wearing a button up blue shirt underneath a dark grey jacket and holding a cup of coffee.

After watching me watching him for a minute or two, he left the room on the other side of the glass. I half-expected the door to my room open, but it didn't. It would be the perfect time for escape, it really would.

Problem? I could hear someone- probably a guard- outside the door. Reason being, I may have assaulted a few federal agents on my way in. Hey, no one could blame me for being a bit frazzled at having men with guns and sunglasses bearing down at my wounded self.

And yeah, I could probably take one guard out, but then I'd have to worry about roomfuls of other government trained men and women. And I might have even went along with that route if I didn't have a serious concussion, a dislocated knee that crunched when I walked and a gunshot clip to my wing. Oh, and you can't forget about the knife wound inches from my heart. Not that anyone here knew about any of this.

So yes, I would be correct in saying that as I was staring down government agents I was slowly but surely dying. But hey, I'm a trooper.

I guess while I was fighting to stay conscious the man on the other side of the glass had come in. 'Cause when I opened my eyes he was there, sitting across from me.

"Are you okay?" he looked slightly concerned at my bloodless face.

"Fine," I snapped.

The concern quickly fled his face at my tone. He looked down at a folder that couldn't have contained much considering they didn't know even my name. "Let's start with your name," he coaxed.

I remained silent.

His eyes turned considerably colder, "do you have family we can call?"

I shook my head no. The only family I had definitely couldn't be reached by phone, maybe by a necromancer, but no phone.

"Parents, siblings, anyone?" I kept shaking my head, which just made the pain worse because of my concussion.

The agent just looked at me, assessing, "You're no older than seventeen, who are you living with?"

Actually, I was sixteen, "Me, myself, and I," I answered somewhat smarmily.

I looked behind the man at the glass again. Behind it stood Agent David and a man who I'd consider handsome for his age. They stood stiff-jawed as if _no one_ talked to this man in front of me like I had.

I faced the current interrogator and gestured to the glass, "They don't like it when I talk mean to you," I giggled. Ah, good old concussions. They never fail to get me in trouble or reduce my common sense to nothing.

"Are sure you're fine?" he asked cautiously.

I nodded enthusiastically. Again, concussion acting here.

"Right," he said, though clearly I wasn't believable in my insistence I was fine. "What were you doing at the crime scene?"

"Looking for a puppy," I laughed at my own stupid joke.

"A puppy?" He repeated skeptically.

"No!" I shouted, "Not a puppy, a big, bad wolf! With sharp teeth and claws!" By this time, I was clearly out of my mind from pain.

"Have you been taking any drugs?" he asked.

I shook my head vigorously, "Never! Drugs are icky. They make it hard to fly."

He- understandably- looked at me quiet weirdly, "Mm-hmmm. Well, maybe you can start from the beginning on this one?"

I looked down at my hands sadly, "Then Fang will be mad. And then we'd get in a fight and all the kids will get sad."

The man responded warily, "Who's Fang, what kids? And I won't tell anyone." Then he motioned with his hand behind him. Even though I didn't know at the time, the agent was signaling for the man and woman behind the glass to shut off the cameras and voice recorders.

"Oh," I said confusedly, "Fang's gone and the kids are dead. What won't you tell?"

"Your story," the man said patiently, "I won't tell anyone your story."

"Hmmm," I assessed the situation as best my befuddled brain could, "Well, about sixteen years ago the first of six genetically altered bird kids was born…"

Somehow (rather it was a miracle or terrible mistake to tell him), I managed to most of it out _before_ I passed out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Okay, I hadn't planned on ever continueing this, but a bunch of people asked, and I was thinking I might have an actual story line, so I decided to go for it.  
First off, I revised chapter 1 a bit, so you might want to re-read that.  
Second, Max never met her mom, Mrs. Martinez, but she still knows Jeb's her dad. This means no CSM shows, no world-wide fame. Besides the readers of Fang's blog, no one not involved directly with Max & Co. know about them. It doesn't really change a whole lot in this though, all the books still sort of happened, (if that makes sense?), I promise it's not as confusing as I'm making it seem to be. I don't know if this upsets you guys, but that's the way it is, sorry :) I think that's the only major difference, but there might be a few more throughout the story.  
And thirdly, while I tried really hard, the NCIS aspect of this might have a few errors, because I just started regulary watching it at the end of last season. And to make it worse, my computer has no sound, so I can't watch past seasons on here. I don't think anything's abnormaly wrong with my NCIS stuff, but if there is, just let me know please.  
Okay, well that's it, I hope you guys enjoy it!**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**-X-X-X-X-**

"McGee! What do you have?" Gibbs asked, striding into the bullpen. Tony and Ziva were raiding the vending machines at the moment, leaving only Gibbs and Tim.

McGee looked up from his computer, "Well Boss, it took some serious umm," he looked around nervously, "hacking, but I finally got a file on Maximum Ride." He paused.

Gibbs turned his attention from the empty plasma to his youngest agent, "Are you going to make me beg?" he asked rhetorically.

Tim looked flustered, "Sorry Boss. I searched for a file on her, but at first all I got was a name hit from the Pentagon, no information. I hacked into the Pentagon and got something from top level clearance." He pushed a button and a picture came up of six human shaped silhouettes with wings and a smaller blob in the sky.

Gibbs pushed the hand controller and the picture changed to one of the girl they recognized as Maximum standing behind a podium. Off to the side were another five children ranging in age from perhaps fifteen to six. Gibbs pushed the button again and again and got more photos of Maximum and what he presumed to be her family.

McGee spoke up again, "Boss, she has _wings_!"

The boss looked at him again, "Geez McGee, I didn't notice!" he snapped. "What else you got?"

Tim looked back down at his computer, "She grew up in a laboratory with five other children; Fang, Iggy, Nudge, Gasman, and Angel," by the end, he was questioning what he was reading. Who named their kid Gasman? "They escaped and lived with a Jeb Batcheldor. Skip ahead five years and they're committing petty crimes and a couple grand theft autos. They spoke to selected members of Congress at one point. They dropped off the grid for a while. A year ago, Maximum, Gasman, and Nudge are buying a house in Colorado under an assumed name. Then nothing."

**-X-X-X-X-**

I woke up on a thin mattress, in an overly bright room, with the smell of disinfectant hanging in the air. So naturally, the first thing I thought of was _School!_

This was followed by much flailing and cursing.

And this was preceded by a yell as the IV was yanked out of my arm. And as the finger clip thing that measured your heart rate was also ripped loose, a handful of people in white coats flooded the room as the machine registered that I was flat lining.

So yeah, I wasn't going to get out of here quietly. I must say, as I looked at the stunned faces around me, I laughed. And then I almost cried when my chest felt like it was being stabbed. Then I realized these people where in _white coats_ and lashed out with my fist at the first one to come near me. He went down like a sack of potatoes.

I swung my feet over the side of the bed to the cold floor and crouched. When I put all my weight on my back leg, I collapsed in shock. Apparently, my knee wasn't really healed all that well. I struggled to my feet and found a man with a syringe who injected it into my arm before I could process it. I was hefted onto the bed, still conscious though I couldn't move a muscle.

"Maximum! Calm down, you're in a hospital, safe," one of the white coats said impatiently.

"Safe? Liar! You're a white coat!" Hmm, my tongue muscles worked fine.

"White coat?" he looked around at the roomful of nurses and doctors, "Everyone get out, and call that NCIS Agent to tell him she's awake." The men and women obeyed, a few of them carrying the body of the guy I'd knocked out.

"NCIS? They're here?" I suppose they would be. I had, after all, been accused of a murder.

The doctor nodded, "Yes, quite adamant to see you too." He came closer to my bed and I would have flinched had I been able to. "Maximum, you… you have _wings!_" he said in wonder.

I mentally rolled my eyes, "Oh my god, _really_? No shit Sherlock! Where the hell have you been? You asses put them there!" If only I could freaking move!

"Wha- what do you mean?" he took out a little light and waved it in front of my face, "Maximum, can you tell me where you are?"

I glared as best I could, "You tell me, _doc_."

"Hmm," he pocketed the light, "You're in D.C., Bethesda Hospital. What's the last thing you remember?" it seemed he was getting over the wing thing.

I thought, then I paled, "Where's NCIS?"

"They should be coming, why, what do you remember?" At this point, I was positive he wasn't a white coat from the School, which was good. Real good.

I only remembered that I told that one man a really awkward story, instead of saying that though, I asked the immediate question, "Where can I get some damn food?" I felt hollow. Then I kind of remembered I couldn't even twitch, "And when the hell will this stuff wear off?"

He smiled, which made me agitated, "I'll have someone bring you some. It should be wearing off about now. I've noticed drugs don't last long on you." He tapped his chin thoughtfully and I could only think that if the doc started to poke and prod me I'd bite his hand off.

Luckily, before such extreme measures could be taken, the door to my room opened and the man who'd been interrogating me during my melt down walked in. Shortly after, he was followed by Agent David and a very short, stout man in suspenders.

They stopped by my bed and studied my _very_ still form, and then they looked at the doctor standing above me. "Is there a reason she looks dead?" the salt and pepper haired interrogator asked dryly.

The doctor grinned, "She laid out a nurse and had to be sedated." He turned to the short man, "Ducky! How are you?"

The man- Ducky- smiled, "Quite well, and yourself?"

They started to have a very animated discussion, but soon the other man broke in, "Duck! We came here for a reason."

"Right you are Jethro," he smiled apologetically at the doctor and turned to me. The doctor left at Jethro's dismissive hand gesture.

Ducky approached the right side of my bed, "Can you sit up dear?" he asked me nicely.

But at this point I was just a little bit peeved, "Don't you think if I could sit up I would be walking out that door by now?" at least I could move my hands and feet.

Ducky looked slightly taken aback at my attitude. Agent David glared at me fiercely. Jethro just studied me.

"Well then." And then this man pulled out a little pen light too, which in my book classified him as a doctor, "Follow the light please."

I kept my eyes completely fixed on the Ducky's face. "Young lady, you need to cooperate with us." He tried moving the light again.

"No, I _need_ to talk to you," I looked at Jethro- well maybe glared was a better word.

David and Ducky looked at Jethro as if waiting orders, "Ducky, go get Miss Ride's files. Ziva, call DiNozzo and see what he's got. Meet me back at the car." Ducky nodded and left, Ziva also did, although a bit reluctantly.

My arms and legs were operable now, as was my neck. "What did I tell you?" I demanded as soon as the door swung shut.

He sipped his coffee and considered the question, "What do you remember telling me?"

"I don't remember anything, that's the damn problem!" I snapped.

Jethro sat down in a hard plastic chair in the corner of the small room, he leaned forward, "You told me your entire life story up to three weeks ago," he answered bluntly.

I cringed and found I could sit up, "Who did you tell?"

He looked me over, "No one."

My eyes locked with his pale blue ones, "Listen to me. As you well know, I've gone through a lot of trouble to disappear. I want to keep it that way. Understand?" I asked intently. I was so going to punish myself for this later. No chocolate chip cookies for a month. _Oh be honest with yourself, Max, _I chastised myself, _you'll be lucky if you last a week._

He tilted his head, "I don't think I can do that, you're part of a federal investigation. I need to know who killed a Petty Officer in the U.S. Navy. Right now, you're our only suspect."

I sighed in exasperation, "You have a picture of the dead guy?" I really had to leave this place now; the smell was getting to me.

Without looking away, Jethro dug into his breast pocket of jacket and produced a small square picture which he tossed to my bed, "That's Petty Officer Charigan."

I studied the picture, "Nope, I definitely didn't kill him." I tossed the picture back and looked around the room for my clothes. I was so not staying in this hospital gown any longer.

"Did you see who did?" Jethro put the picture into his pocket.

"Okay, look, I want out of here _really_ bad, and I'm guessing I can't get out without some stuff getting signed," he nodded with a small smile. "Okay then, you sign the right papers, and I'll answer all your questions, except for anything not pertaining to this case you're working on," I added.

He stood up, "Fair enough." Jethro walked out.

I jumped off the bed and opened the drawer I had seen my pant leg sticking out of. My legs were wobbly, but I could stand and walk well enough as long as I didn't put too much weight on my one knee. I quickly changed into the pair of jeans, t-shirt, windbreaker and sneakers I'd come in. The shirt was caked with dried blood where my chest had been bleeding, but I just zipped up my dark windbreaker and what blood that had leaked through was near invisible.

My muscles felt stiff and sore from being unexercised for so long. I knew it would be a while before I would be doing any long distance flying (due to the bullet wound in my wing), and that thought made me miserable.

I walked stiffly out the door and found myself in a hallway. The end of it was two doors down from my room. A big round desk stood there, it was manned by three nurses/receptionists. Jethro was filling out paperwork from the looks of it.

I really did think about just sneaking out then and there, but before my thought process could go too far, Jethro looked up and caught my eye. It was almost like he knew what I was thinking. My breath caught at that thought. Angel, oh Angel. Even though she'd died two years ago, my heart still broke to think about her; about any of them.

Jethro gestured impatiently at me to hurry up. I made it a point to take my leisurely time meeting him at the elevator, even though my insides were screaming at me to leave this scary place NOW. Neither of us said a word on the way to the first floor. Again, my instincts were freaking out at me for putting myself in such a small place. 'Cause as we all well know, growing up in a dog crate can do that to you.

We came out in the lobby where we found Ducky talking to the woman behind the main desk. He noticed Jethro and said a hurried goodbye before making his was over to us. He was clutching a manila folder. His eyes were fastened on me and I instantly knew that he knew about my wings.

"Okay, I get it, you know," I said testily, "now please get over it."

His eyes widened, "But my dear! It shouldn't be possible! I have so many questions!" he started to ramble on. Only now did I realize he had an accent, my guess was Scottish. At this point, I also realized Jethro was at the revolving doors.

Eager to be outside, I quickly walked across the lobby and out the doors. Agent David was updating Jethro on whatever her phone call had told her. The three NCIS agents started walking to the parking lot, but I stayed there, looking up into the sky. There were many clouds up there today. And it was mid-evening, almost sunset. These were the best conditions to fly without being seen. I looked back on ground level to see if there was a discrete place to take off.

I was still looking when Jethro poked his head around the corner of the hospital. "Maximum! We're taking the _car_." His head disappeared.

I glanced back up at the cloudy sky. I probably shouldn't be flying anyway. My wing still throbbed occasionally from the gunshot would. So with disappointment, I jogged (at least my knee was doing better) to the parking lot. Jethro was in the car waiting.

I climbed in the little steel box with reluctance. As soon as I was in, I rolled down the window all the way, even though it was still early spring and definitely chilly out. I felt Ziva glaring at me from beside me-Ducky was in the passenger seat and Jethro was driving.

I tore my gaze from the scenery to her. "Do you have a problem with me?" I ground out from between my teeth. Seriously, a ticked off government agent was the last thing I needed.

She smiled, the kind that said 'you amuse me, but I still might kill you', "Me? No. I just feel you need to respect your elders."

"Yeah," I snorted, "'Cause they've given me a lot to respect."

She frowned and went to looking out her own window. I caught Jethro looking at me in the rearview mirror; he didn't try to hide it either.

Ten minutes of zoning out from Ducky's stories later, we pulled into a parking garage. Through a cloudy memory, I recalled first being brought in to be interrogated this same way. Jethro parked and I was led into another elevator up to a lobby. The big letters 'NCIS' were printed onto the red walls. Jethro talked to a security guard and we were shoved into yet another elevator. One more and I was going to say screw my promise and fight my way out of here.

Much to my embarrassment, I didn't even check to see what floor we got out on. All I knew was that when the doors _dinged_ and opened, I leaped out like a madwomen. This time I did look around me and saw the same room I was led through on my way to be interrogated. This time though, I was able to take a better look because I wasn't half-dead, which you know, was always a helpful state to be.

The large room was packed with desks placed in groups. The walls were blue and red. Along one wall were a dozen clocks showing all different times around the world. On the other side was a flight of steps leading up to a catwalk thing. Only about half the desks were occupied at this point, mainly because I'm pretty sure it was closing time.

Only when we walked into one of the groups of desks did I realize Ducky had stayed on the elevator. In the desk group, (I think it's called a bullpen) Agent David and Jethro sat down behind what I guessed to be their desks. The handsomish- yet kind of old- guy who I faintly recalled being behind the one-way mirror during my interrogation also occupied a desk. Then finally, a new man sat in the last one. He was kind of baby faced with short brown hair and kind brown eyes.

Both men looked up when I entered. "What's she doing here, Boss?" The one-way mirror man asked.

Jethro didn't respond for a minute, instead shuffling paperwork around his desk, "She's going to help with this case."

"Excuse me," I broke in, "_she_ has a name."

The baby faced man looked at me, the sarcasm in my voice going right over his head when he said, "Yes, I know. Maximum Ride; age sixteen, grew up in a Death Valley laboratory with five other children-."

I spun around towards Jethro's desk, "You said you didn't tell anyone! What the hell is this?"

He looked up, "I didn't. McGee found out himself." He went back to his paperwork.

I walked up to his desk and slammed my hands down, he didn't look up. "I will not work with you if you pull this crap. I'm leaving now."

And that's exactly what I did. I felt all four pairs of eyes on my back as I strode towards the stairs and took them down three at a time. I didn't bother to stop when the metal scanners went off in the lobby, I just kept walking.

Since I couldn't fly yet, I did the next best thing. I found the highest building in a three-mile radius and climbed the fire escape to the roof. Walking to the edge I sat and let my feet dangle down.

Time to clear my thoughts.

I had worked so hard to make myself dead. So damn hard. And now NCIS had to go and screw it all up. I'm sure all of them knew about my wings and everything else, so why wouldn't they tell anyone? I'd have to go on the run again, no doubt.

I'd crash in D.C. until I could fly again. Hopefully it would only be another day. Then I'd fly back to the house and pack up. Donate it to charity or something (can you even do that with a house?) I would work out the rest in the sky, where I think best.

I stood up and was just about to head back down to find a park when someone shouted up to me, "Hey kid! Don't do it!"

I looked down to find about a dozen people craning their necks to see me. I gave a short laugh; they thought I was going to kill myself!

"Don't do it! The police are on their way!" another person shouted when I didn't move.

In the distance I heard the tell tale sirens. I ran towards the fire escape, only to remember it was on the side with the crowd. There was no way I was going to stay around for the cops. My only other option was to glide off the other side of the roof and hope no one saw me.

Sounded good to me.

I peeled my windbreaker off and folded it across my arm, took a couple running steps and leaped off the side of the building. I just coasted, figuring it would hurt less. And it did, but it still felt like my wing was being sent through a paper shredder. So I made an emergency landing on a roof three away from the one I was just on. I figured I probably shouldn't be in the sky in D.C. anyway. What, with all those security measures to pick up unauthorized flying objects.

I landed with a jolt to my knee. Apparently, that wasn't up to par yet either. I quickly located the fire escape and climbed down that.

Before I even hit the pavement, a male voice behind me cockily said, "Fancy meetin' you here, Maximum."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I forgot to do this in the last chapter, but obviously I don't own any of this besides the plotline. All the characters and everything else belongs to either CBS (or the owners of NCIS, I'm not sure), or James Patterson.  
Enjoy!****Chapter Three**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

I spun around to see the handsomish man from NCIS and Ziva. Both of them had their arms crossed over their chests and a more than slightly surprised look on their faces. It was then I realized my wings were still out and only half folded. It did no good now, but I quickly retracted them and threw on my windbreaker.

"What the hell are you looking at?" With Angel gone, I no longer pressed my no swearing rule.

The man pointed and smirked, "Those feathery growths on your back for one."

David picked up where he left off, "And two a criminal."

I pushed past them and walked/limped to the end of the alley, "I didn't do anything wrong."

"Ah, yeah," he scoffed, "you did. You assaulted three federal agents and a nurse. And you're looking mighty guilty of that murder too."

I threw up my hands and turned onto a sidewalk, "Oh yes, 'cause I'd kill someone and wait around for the cops. How stupid do you think I am?" I was just letting them trail me like ducklings at this point as I searched the city. I wasn't even really sure where I was going. That is, until I saw the Italian bistro that seemed to pop up right in front of me.

"I think you are very stupid," Agent David replied, "you made Gibbs mad."

"Who?" I asked distractedly.

In the restaurants glass I saw the man and Ziva exchange a look. "The man that signed you out from the hospital."

The waiters had just brought out a plate of chicken parmesan and oh my god did it look amazing, "Oh, you mean Jethro?"

"Yes." And then the man grabbed my wrists and pulled them behind my back, gently pushing me against the resturant glass. "Since you won't cooperate, we're forced to arrest you on the charges of assaulting federal officers and assaulting a civilian. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say-"

"My God! I see big guys with guns coming at me and I react, so sue me! It's not like I killed any of them!" I snaked my hands free from the cuffs before he latched them and spun around in a fighting stance. I was careful to keep the weight off my back leg.

Ziva smirked, "Help us then and the charges will be dropped."

I glared and kept my stance ready, "That's blackmail."

Ziva just kept on smiling, "Prove it."

My eyes darted around, looking for an exit preferably without killing anyone, only because I didn't need a higher price on my head.

"Don't do that Maximum; you'll always be on the run then. You'll have a target on your head so big you won't be allowed in the U.S. for as long as you live," the man was seriously starting to get on my nerves.

I dropped my hands but kept my knees bent, "And let's say, for instance, I was to agree to your terms and help. Then what?"

Ziva looked at her partner before answering, "Assuming you were found innocent, you could resume your," she eyed my tucked in wings, "normal life."

I shook my head, "That won't due; I want a contract or something that my name will be erased from your records. I want it to be like I never met you people."

The two agents looked at each other and seemed to have one of those mental conversations couples have after fifty years of marriage. "We will see what we can do," Tony finally answered.

I hesitated then nodded. I glanced behind me at the patrons eating their dinner in the restaurant. I turned back to the feds and grinned, "So just how much _do_ you guys make?" My stomach rumbled at the thought of being full for the first time in weeks.

XXXXXXXXXX

I bounded up the steps on a full stomach. I could still taste the chocolate pudding I had finished up my meal with. Leave it to say that Mickey's Italian Bistro would be out of business until it could replenish its food stores.

Just as I crossed the last step and opened the door unto the instructed floor, the elevator dinged and out stepped Ziva, and as I had recently learned his name was, Tony. When Tony saw me, his gaze turned slightly dejected. Eh, I _had_ wiped his wallet with my dinner bill.

Even though it was well past closing, Gibbs, and his other team member—the baby faced one—were still sitting at their desks. Tony and Ziva unloaded their gear and also sat down.

"So you came back," Gibbs stated. He didn't even look up from his paperwork.

I smiled sweetly, "Because I was given _so_ many options."

He ignored my comment.

"But next time you feel the need to lie, trick, or deceive me, I will be out that door and far away before you can sic your dogs on me." I glanced at Agent David, whose gaze hardened. Be it from being called a dog or me mouthing off to her boss, the world may never know.

Gibbs ignored that comment too. He stood up and looked at the nameless agent who was furiously tapping away at his keyboard. "McGee, up on the plasma." Then he turned to face the flat screen and waited expectantly.

McGee dutifully did as he was told and as I watched a string of images played across the screen. First was of me and my flock, my expression shuttered off into a cold mask. Next there was a picture of me at the crime scene. Another of me in the hospital bed, unconscious. A few of the dead guy at different angles, he had a collapsed throat, a crushed windpipe. Tony kept his eyes on me the whole time, waiting for me to show some compelling emotion. Next there were a couple shots of pieces of evidence at the scene. And finally there was a photo of Ziva's butt. I almost laughed out loud, but instead turned to her and raised an eyebrow.

"Doesn't that violate the whole sexual harassment code? Like a red light deal?" McGee, Tony and Ziva turned a bright red and I knew they were holding back laughter.

Gibbs pretended to ignore us all and turned to me, "What do you know?"

I considered, "The sky is blue, E=MC2, I just spent all Tony's money on food-"

He cut me off by yelling at Ziva and Tony, "Tony, run background on Petty Officer Charigan. Ziva, find a holding cell for Miss Ride."

I wanted to yell at him 'Don't you dare put me in any more small spaces or one of us isn't going to make it out alive'. Instead, I added in a conversational tone, "I also know that the dead guy was killed while I was there, but I didn't do it."

Gibbs rounded on me, "Why should I believe you?"

I snorted, "Why would I lie? My freedom depends on my cooperation."

His steely blue eyes assessed me. He turned around and walked off without another word until he hit the bottom of the stairs going up, "Maximum! Come here!"

I followed him through a door labeled Director's Office, past an overworked, underpaid secretary, and through another door marked Director Leon Vance. The room behind the second door was sparsely furnished except for some pictures on the wall of some boxers and two more frames on the desk. Behind said desk was a well dressed African American man. He looked up with a bored expression at our entrance.

"Gibbs," he greeted unemotionally, barely looking up from his papers.

"Leon," Gibbs answered back.

Leon's gaze settled on me and he folded his hands over his paperwork, "And who do we have here?"

Gibbs sipped his coffee before answering, "Maximum Ride, Leon Vance. Leon, Maximum."

Leon sent an almost annoyed look towards Jethro. "And who _is_ she?"

"Okay, well first off, _she_ would like to speak for herself. And two, _she_ can also answer questions about _her_." Ten bucks to anyone who correctly guesses who said that. Anyone? Any takers? Nope, didn't think so.

Leon looked back at me with a look of surprise, annoyance, and indignation. "Okay, Maximum, who are you?"

I looked down at myself, puzzled, then looked back up and with a completely innocent face and said, "Last time I checked I was a girl?"

In the corner of my eye I saw Gibbs try to hide a smile in his coffee cup. Apparently, Leon saw it too, "Agent Gibbs, if there was a reason for your interruption I suggest you get to it quickly."

"I need a pass for her to work here for a few days," Gibbs demanded.

Vance stared at him suspiciously for a moment, "when has my permission, or lack thereof, ever stopped you before?"

"MTAC included," Jethro added.

Vance flatly, out rightly said, "No."

Gibbs turned back to me, "Go down to the bullpen with Ziva and tell her what you know."

"No," there was no freaking way I was going to leave the room when they were talking about me.

Gibbs was clearly not used to being told 'no' two times in one day. He was about to open his mouth to probably bring up the whole 'help us or be arrested' thing, when Vance cut in.

"Visitor's Pass for now, I'll think about MTAC," he reached into a drawer and pulled out a little card on a nylon cord that went around your neck. He handed it to Gibbs who was closer to his desk. "And let it be stated that the only reason I'm even considering it is because she seems to be putting you in your place, something you direly need," the director of NCIS smirked a little and went back to work.

Gibbs brushed by me on the way out of the office and breezed down the flight of steps to the elevator. I followed and he handed me my pass silently. I put it on and reluctantly got into the elevator when it opened. I stood in a corner, that way the small space at least looked bigger.

I, of course, was the first one out of the elevator when it stopped. Jethro led the way through a set of automatic sliding glass doors and into a cold sterile room. I suddenly had the urge to run, far, far away. I slammed on my breaks and expected Erasers and Flyboys to start pouring out of every door.

It took me a moment to realize the man named Ducky was calling to me, "Maximum, dear, are you well?" His gloved hands were in the air and covered in blood.

I tried my best to smile, "I'll go talk to Ziva now." And then I literally ran out of the rooms and bypassed the elevator for the stairs.

Due to my super human hearing, I heard Ducky say confusedly, "I wouldn't have pegged her for the squeamish type."

I laughed, feeling the weight of my own personal phobias lift as I got out of the hospital atmosphere. Oh Ducky, I'm _definitely_ not squeamish.

I stepped out of the stairwell and walked over to where Ziva and Tony hovered over McGee's desk. McGee, however, wasn't there. I walked around them and got directly on the other side of the partition that closed off McGee's end of the bullpen.

"So do you guys make it a habit to snoop through your coworker's desks?" I asked calmly, enjoying the looks on their faces as they saw me for the first time.

"Jesus," Tony exclaimed, "She's as bad as Gibbs!"

"You mean as good," Ziva corrected and studied my face.

I pulled a spinning chair away from a desk to the middle of the aisle and plopped down, "Did you stay all night or something?" The American clock said it was after eight.

Tony grimaced, "Only when we're working on a case."

I smiled and leaned back in the chair with my arms folded across my chest, "And the case would be that dead guy… Charigan?"

Ziva's eyes narrowed at me, "You ask a lot of questions."

I shrugged, "I try to get information where I can." They both go to open their mouths, but before anything can be spoken I break in, "Do you guys have any food?"

Tony gaped at me and even Ziva's eyes widened, "You want _more_ food?"

I smirked, "I like food."

Agent David pushed herself off the partition and walked into the aisle, "I will take you to the vending machines."

Tony muttered something about using contractions and I followed Ziva into what appeared to be a cafeteria. I looked at the vending machine, then at my moneyless hands, and finally to Ziva with what I hoped were big, innocent brown eyes. Psh, yeah right.

She sighed and dug in her pockets before handing me a dollar bill—guess my eyes _did_ work. I put it in the machine and selected some pop tarts. As they were vending I felt Ziva come up behind me. I saw her reflection in the glass and slowly turned around to see her face in mine. "Problem?"

"What is your aim, Maximum?" Ziva practically hissed.

"Call me Max," I said as charmingly as I can.

She didn't seem to like my charisma because she slapped her open palm on the glass by my head. "Answer the question!"

I slipped under her arm and got in a seat with my pop tarts before she even realized I was gone. "My aim? I just don't want to be arrested."

"Did you kill the petty officer?" she demanded. I'll admit, if I hadn't seen in my short life probably more than she ever would, I would have trembled.

"Do you have any evidence that I did?"

She might as well have growled in frustration, "Only that you were there at the crime scene."

I grin, "Well than why aren't you looking for the killer?"

Her eyes lowered and she looked almost ashamed, "We are, we can not find any leads."

I leanned forward, "What if I told you I saw the killer?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Thanks SOOOOO much for the reviews and alerts I've gotten for this fic. It's absolutely amazing! Just as a warning though, this story isn't going to be really long. Probably only ten or so chapters. I'd love to be able to write this as longer, but I just don't think it's going to happen :). Not on top of my other fics and the actual novel I'm *trying* to write. Thanks so much for the amazing support though! And on a side note, the chapter heading won't freaking center, so I'm officially giving up. -sigh-**

**Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own it. -tear-****

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**Chapter Four**

Ziva looked like she wanted to rip my throat out, "Why didn't you tell us earlier?"

"Because," I grinned, "you wouldn't believe me."

"Test me," she growled.

My eyebrow rose, "you mean 'try me'?"

She grimaced, "Same thing. Now tell me what you know."

I munched at my pop tart, trying to figure out the best approach. After a minute, I figured eh, what the hell, either they believe me or they don't, "The killer? It was half man half wolf. As me and my flo—I like to refer to them as, it was an Eraser."

Ziva practically growled and yanked me up from my chair. Clearly, she wasn't a believer. She started to tow me to the elevator. Uh-uh, no way was I being manhandled.

With her hand wrapped tight around my arm, I spun in front of her and snaked my hand up to punch her gut. Faster than I expected, she dropped my arm and lifted hers up to block my fist. I sent my foot on a path to her shoulder and before it collided she twisted and my foot barely touched her. While I hadn't expected this much from her, I never stopped to think about it.

This time she attacked, an open palmed hit to my chest that never landed because I jumped in the air to land behind her. I aimed a quick jab to her neck, trying to knock her out, but she spun around too fast and instead it landed on her collarbone with a _thud_. It wasn't hard enough to break it, but Ziva stumbled, giving me an opening.

While still regaining her balance, I tackled her to the ground. I flipped her over quickly so she was on her stomach and yanked her arms behind her back. She started to squirm and I could feel my grip slipping, but I adjusted it and leaned down to her ear.

"I don't appreciate people touching me," I hissed. "I told you what I know. Either you choose to believe me or not. Understand?"

When Agent David remained silent I jerked her arms up farther and she let a puff of breath loose, "Yes," she practically spit in my face.

"Good," I jumped off her and landed at least ten feet away in case she didn't feel like giving up.

That's when DiNozzo came in to see Ziva stagger to her feet. He raised an eyebrow and looked between us, "Do I want to know?"

"No," Ziva and I both said at the same time and then glared at each other. Would it be weird to say that I liked Ziva? Well it's true. I don't know, I guess she just reminded me of Fang a little, and of myself. And she was tough. I liked that.

"Okay then…" Tony looked between us again. He turned to Ziva, "Boss wants us to see what Abby has in the lab on the fingerprints."

She walked out of the cafeteria soundlessly and got in the elevator, without waiting for either of us the doors slid closed.

I shrugged and headed to the staircase, Tony hurried to catch up. "What'd you do to Ziva?"

I grinned and took the steps two at a time down, following the signs directing me to the lab, "I pinned her."

I heard his footsteps stop, "You did what?"

Turning around I saw his completely blank face, "I pinned her. What's the big deal?"

Tony gaped, I laughed, he finally found his voice, "But, but, Ziva is… Ziva! You can't beat her! She's like a ninja!"

I laughed some more, "I'm a better ninja." Then I leaped down the stairs and through a door into a big room full of computers and other stuff I'd never hope to understand. Seriously, you should have seen this room. An island in the middle was full of computers and along every wall an array of machinery stood ready. In the back were sliding glass doors and behind them were more machines. Nudge would have had a field day.

In front of the island was a black pig-tail haired, really tall girl in a lab coat, black platform combat boots, a red and black plaid skirt, and a black t-shirt with a red tie. Beside her was Ziva. They looked up, glared at me, and went back to looking at whatever was so fascinating on the table. When Tony finally caught up he ran panting into the room.

"Ziva! Did she really beat you?" Poor Tony, from the look on his partner's face he really should have kept his mouth shut.

That's when the elevator dinged and Gibbs stepped out, whatever Ziva would have done, she didn't. He strolled in with a huge plastic cup of, from the label, some caffeinated drink called Caf-Pow! He handed it to who I presumed to be Abby, "Abbs, Maximum. Maximum, Abby. Now what do you have?"

Abby glared at me, "I'm well aware who she is."

Why do people instantly hate me? I mean really, all I did was beat up her co-worker. I smiled at Abby in my most charming way, "Please, call me Max."

With one last look at me, she turned to the computer, "Okay, well the fingerprints don't match Maxi's over there, but we do have a match from IAFIS. They belong to one Doctor Jeb Batcheldor. He…" She continued talking until she noticed the way my face had turned green, and the intent stares I was receiving from everyone but her. "What am I missing?"

McGee looked away from me and filled Abby in, "Maximum was raised by Jeb Batcheldor in Death Valley, then later in Colorado."

"That traitor did _not_ raise me!" I spat at him, he flinched.

After a moments pause, Abby continued on her report. I hardly listened. Tony shuffled back a few steps and leaned down an inch or two to my height. "You know," he said quietly, "you're going to have to tell someone what you know."

I snorted, "And you're going to have to tell Ziva how you feel, but hey, who am I to judge?" And no, I didn't use my impeccable people skills to figure that out (sarcasm implied) but instead one of my newly found mutations. I could sense people's feelings toward each other. Yes, I, Maximum Unsympathetic, Straight to the point, No beating around the bush Ride could feel emotions (only the really intense ones though). And it was about the most useless mutation anyone could think of. But, it was one hell of a way to annoy people.

He looked at me like I'd sprouted another head and spluttered, "Ziva? I don't feel anything for her. I mean, she's my friend and all, but nothing more than that. Where'd you ever get the idea it was more than that?" He continued to rant at me from far enough away that the rest of the team couldn't hear us until I slapped him across the face.

"Jeez Tony, get a grip."

He looked stunned and felt the faint red hand print on his face. Suddenly, Gibbs was standing beside us, "If you don't stop assaulting my agents I'll have you put in a holding cell, where you can still talk to us."

I said nothing and stared fiercely into his cold blue eyes. No way was I backing down from this staring match. But I didn't have to because all of a sudden a shrill alarm started going off. All four agents unholstered their guns, Abby grabbed a steel pipe in an evidence bag, and I whipped off my windbreaker and unfurled my wings. At that, McGee gaped and Abby gasped and dropped her pipe, she quickly scrambled to pick it up.

"DiNozzo, McGee, take the stairwell. David, elevator. Abby, get on the intercom and find out what the hell is going on," Gibbs issued orders like he was born for it, which he probably was (if you believe in fate and everything). He stalked towards the windows and looked out, before jumping to the ground and pulling Abby with him, "Down!" he shouted.

I leapt to the ground in time for a cloud of gas to erupt from the center of the room, tear gas. The three of us in the lab coughed and spluttered as strong hands grabbed my forearms and pulled me up. I cracked an eyelid and saw a hairy face elongated into a roughly formed muzzle. With a quick, near blind, open palm to the nose he was down for the count.

The air was so foggy I could hardly see through it, and I had raptor vision. Tears streamed from my eyes while I searched mostly with my hands to find Gibbs and Abby. Then I heard a squeal to my right and a faint, "Max!"

I felt my way over, passing a table of safety equipment and snagging a pair of snug fitting goggles. I put them on and worked the burn out of my eyes as I continued to find Abby. When I did find her, I didn't like the sight.

Outside of the actual lab, by the stairwell where the tear gas wasn't as bad, stood McGee, Abby, Tony, Ziva and Gibbs, all back to back and completely outnumbered. Around them were at least twenty Erasers all armed with claws, fangs and machine guns. None of the team looked my way when I emerged from the lab, for which I was grateful because it gave me the opportunity to sneak up behind the smug Erasers and take out four of them before anyone was the wiser. The first I snapped his neck, the second a quick chop to the temple, and the third gun totting monster went down with a crushed windpipe. That's when all hell broke loose. The fourth guy caught my roundhouse kick mid swing and twisted my leg. I went with it and slammed my other foot into his jaw. He fell like a sack of potatoes, which was nice and all, except that now everyone was aware I was there.

Gibbs was the first one to shoot, taking down three guys in quick succession before getting engaged in hand-to-hand combat. Ziva shot four and was grazed by a bullet in the shoulder. She reflexively dropped her weapon and kicked out with her foot at the Eraser who had shot her. Tony got two guys with his gun before they swarmed him. McGee used up his magazine with six shots to six different guys, not to say all of them were fatal, but they still incapacitated the victims. Abby was backed into a corner frantically screaming for help and beating anyone who came near with her pipe. Honestly, it was freaking hilarious, you know, except that we were fighting for our lives here.

As I was fighting the last guy there, he suddenly feinted and turned around and ran towards the windows in the lab, trying to escape. I flapped my wings once and used the boost to grab his arm. I used it to spin him around and he crashed into a table on wheels. Somehow, he must have hit his head on the corner of the table because he passed out. Or that's what I though until I felt his pulse and realized that he was dead.

I straightened, winced at my still sore wing and knee, and wiped my hands on my jeans after flinging on my jacket. I limped back to the foyer thingy that was starting to get filled up with other agents. The first person I recognized there was Gibbs, and he was furious. When he saw me he seriously stomped over and got up in my face.

"Explain to me what the hell that was!" he exploded, "One of my agents is shot, another one's out cold, Abby's in shock and Tony has a broken arm! Explain! Now!"

I huffed, "They were Erasers. I tried to tell Ziva about them but she didn't believe me. They were the one's that killed your Petty Officer. I didn't bring them here so don't look at me like that. I hate them more than you do, trust me."

Gibbs' eyes shot daggers at me for a minute to see if I was going to change my story. Finally, he growled, "Vance's office, five minutes," and disappeared into the swarm of agents and paramedics.

I battled my way up the stairs like a fish going upstream. I was instantly glad I had covered my wings up when we had stopped fighting, or it would have been a disaster with everyone seeing them. I entered the first bathroom I saw and thoroughly rinsed my still burning eyes. I even used that special eye cleanser stuff they keep in public places. It eventually worked and my eyes no longer ran with tears.

Now I could think. I hoisted myself up on the counter and closed my eyes in thought. The Erasers were back. I hadn't seen anything even remotely Itex related since Nudge was killed and I went into hiding until I saw that sailor get killed by one. And it was all because of stupid NCIS that I was even here right now. I could have been God knows where by now and there would have never been any attack. Why can't people just leave me the hell alone? I didn't do anything to anyone.

It probably wasn't even my fault that the rest of the Flock was dead. It was Fang's and that's the story I'm sticking with. Once he left I just couldn't function right. I still led the flock with all I had, but my heart wasn't in it. Seeing me so torn up about Fang led Dylan to successfully commit suicide, he was the first to go.

Then Angel; she finally turned to the dark side and joined up with what little remained of Itex, Total went with her. We tried to stop them, but they totally and completely bought into Itex's lies about trying to help the planet. When they gained Angel's trust, they ruined her. She was experimented on until she died. I never told the flock that.

Iggy was next. It was his eyes that did him in. Somewhere along the line we managed to find a donor to give Iggy his sight back, only it was a trap. They had done something to the eyes that screwed with Iggy's mind, he went insane and flew right into Itex to demand a 'refund' and ended up getting killed. At least I was told his death was quick.

Gazzy died from, of all things, pneumonia. After all we survived through, and he gets sick. I actually believed his was one of the worst deaths because we had to actually watch him die.

By the end, I almost wished Nudge and I would just get struck my lightning or something to just end everything. And as terrible as it was, my wish came partly true when Nudge was sniped out of the sky by some Itex goony. Her death was instantaneous and left me all by myself.

I was in shock for weeks, hiding out in our cliffs during that time. Every morning I'd wake up and tell myself to find Fang, but I didn't, I couldn't. Not to sound melodramatic, but I would really have killed myself if I found out he was dead too. So I refused to look, that way I at least didn't know if he was still alive.

I realize by now you're probably asking 'who are you and what have you done with Max?', but a month after Nudge's death, I was back to myself and hell bent on revenge. That's when I developed my first new power, super strength. I tore through every. Single. One. Of Itex's remaining buildings that I could find. I killed everything in it besides what was caged. I let all the experiments go and refused to let anyone follow me. But the super strength took so much out of me I spent a week recuperating after every raid, which was why I only used it in emergencies.

But back to the point that my past was catching up to me. The Erasers were back and I needed to hide again. Finish my business with NCIS quickly and run for the hills. Good enough of a plan for me.

I rinsed my eyes one last time, wiped some blood off my arms and face, and exited the bathroom. I took the stairs up until I was on the top floor and headed into Vance's office. I passed his secretary without stopping and she gave a little moan and a, "not another one!" before I opened the door and walked into the Director's office.

Gibbs, Ziva, and Abby were already there, lined up in front of Vance's desk. I heard Gibbs finish with, "Ziva just has a scratch, McGee's getting a CAT scan and Tony's getting an x-ray," before every one turned to me.

I sucked in a breath, slapped my brave face on and held up my hands in peace and grinned, "From those looks you'd think I was the one that did the damage."

No one laughed.

Lowering my hands I stuck out my chin defiantly, "I _know_ I said that I was dangerous. I warned you all just to let me go, but you didn't. Your fault, not mine."

"Okay Maximum," Vance's lips moved but his face remained cold, "Let's say we believed you and none of this was your fault, what happened?"

I plopped myself down in a swivel chair around a large conference table and motioned for the others to follow suit. "Might as well get comfortable, it's a long story." Vance stayed at his desk and the rest of the agents reluctantly sat down around the table. "Okay," I propped my feet up on the table, "as I already told Jethro over there, I'm a mutant, 2% Avian, 98% human. I was engineered at a lab in the west, which thanks to me and my Flock, is gone. Somewhere along the line one of the white coats, Jeb, took me and my siblings out. We lived in peace for a while, and then the Erasers came, the things that were here today.

"To skip a few years, Jeb betrayed us, we destroyed most of Itex, Jeb tried to win our trust again by dropping out of Itex, he betrayed us, he helped us, he betrayed us, he brought in my perfect half, and then he disappeared. So did one of my flock members. My family… left me, and I took care of myself. The Erasers stopped bothering me, I hid out, and everyone thought I was dead. Until of course, I stumbled into DC and you guys arrested me.

"We clear now?" I refilled my lungs and waited for the people in the room to get comprehend what I had said. I waited longer. Now right about now you're probably questioning my sanity telling all these people the truth, but it was part of that simplistic plan; get my business finished with NCIS ASAP.

Finally Ziva spoke up, "If you destroyed this Itex, why were their Erasers here today?"

I glared, "Because they know I'm not dead now."

"So we have a leak," Vance stated.

I shrugged, "That's your job. I just want to disappear again."

Gibbs shook his head, "Not until we find Petty Officer Charigan's killer."

"My guess is he was one of those guys downstairs."

Abby talked for the first time since the fight, "But Jeb's fingerprints are on the body."

"They work in groups," I said, "Jeb probably went with the Erasers."

Ziva narrowed her eyes, "You said Jeb left Itex."

"It wouldn't have been the first time he lied."

"What would Itex want with a Petty Officer?" Abby asked the room in general.

I shrugged, Ziva and Vance remained silent, and Gibbs stared at me, "That's what she's going to help us with."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

I spun around in the extra bullpen chair again, watching everyone pack up their stuff. "So can I leave now?" I'd been sitting there all day answering random case questions as the team did computer stuff and drifted in and out of the room following leads. I was bored out of my freaking mind.

"And where do you intend to spend the night?" came Gibbs' gruff reply.

I shrugged, "In a tree." I saw their glares as they thought I was being sarcastic. "No really, a tree. Did I fail to mention the wings?"

"You'll stay with Ziva. For this case, you are a witness and won't be allowed out of our sight."

"What?" both Ziva and I shouted at the team leader.

He gave us a look and headed for the elevator without a response. McGee jumped in right before the doors slid closed completely. I looked over to find Tony grinning at us amusedly.

"Tony," I said threateningly, "You _really_ want to go home now, don't you?"

He grinned, "Well actually I'd like to see how this plays out—."

I stood up slowly, "No, you really don't."

He held up his hands and backed away to the elevator. Before the doors closed he looked at Ziva and mouthed, _Good luck_.

Without a word, Agent David started for the stairs. I easily caught up with her, "You know, I really don't hate you or anything."

No response.

"I just don't like being manhandled," I went on as if she was cooperating and not completely ignoring me.

We made it to the parking lot without killing each other. So far, so good. "Now if you just tell me where your house is, I'll fly there and we can avoid awkward silences like this."

Ziva shook her head and got in the car, "Get in, you are a witness."

I mumbled, "And I'm not glass either," but got in anyway. I rolled down my window right away and practically stuck my head out into the cool fresh air.

Ziva pulled out of the parking garage and drove a little… _eccentrically_ across DC.

She looked at me slightly concerned, "My driving does not bother you?"

I shrugged, "I've been in the car with a blind guy behind the wheel. No, it doesn't bother me."

She looked almost disappointed as we pulled against the curb of a small townhouse. The outside was painted an eggshell white with a red door and shutters. The living room was right there when you opened the door. It was very clean and tidy with almost no personal items besides a few pictures. One of three children (one of which looked like Ziva), one of Tony and Ziva on a boardwalk, the whole team at the office at what looked like a Christmas party, and finally one of Ziva and an older man with graying hair who, I would guess, was her father.

Ziva bypassed the living room and took the steps set off to the side up to the second floor. I followed her. She opened one of four doors and slammed it before I could sneak in. She came out in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, holding a pile of clothes, so it was her bedroom.

She pointed to the door next to hers, "You may sleep in there." She handed me the clothes, "Go change, you smell."

That might be because I've been wearing the same clothes for two weeks, I thought and opened the door. It was a small room, with a twin sized bed, a dresser, nightstand and bookshelf. The walls were white, the carpet beige. It was nice and cozy. I closed the door gently and changed into the borrowed clothes. It was a pair of baggy black sweatpants and a fitting orange marathon tank top, perfect for my wings.

I opened the door to find the hallway empty and a small bag in front of me. It held a toothbrush, brush, a towel and washcloth, soap, and finally a stick of deodorant. A shower! Oh thank god a shower!

I let out a tiny 'yippee!' and opened one of the two doors left. The first one was a closet, the second was the bathroom. It was simple like the rest of the house, not like it mattered to me. I undressed and got in the shower, cranked up the hot water and scrubbed myself like never before.

XXXXXXXXXX

An hour later I practically skipped down the stairs in contentment. Ziva sat in the kitchen at a bar stool. In front of her was a big salad bowl and a smaller plate full of the green stuff. She gestured to the bowl, "Get a plate and help yourself."

I grabbed the extra plate and heaped a mountain of the food on it. I plopped myself next to Ziva in another stool. "So where are you from?" I asked around a mouthful of lettuce.

She swallowed, "Israel. And you?"

I shrugged, "Who knows? I've lived all over, but I don't know where I'm really from."

The agent nodded her head. A few more silent minutes past, "Maximum-"

"Max," I interrupted, "Maximum is just so… Roman."

She mildly glared at me, "Max, I know you want to leave, I respect that. All we want from you is information. Then you are free to go."

She made it sound so simple, "And what if I can't give you the information you want? The people that know end up dead, simple as that."

"Like your family," she whispered and my fork clattered to the table.

"How do you know about that?" I practically hissed.

Her eyes held pity when she answered, "Only when someone looses their family does one become so bitter this young."

"Because it has nothing to do with facing down those Erasers like in the lab everyday of my life," I snorted and changed the subject. These people didn't need to know anything else about me. I picked up my fork and went right back to my snack.

Ziva's curls bounced as she nodded empathetically, "I am sure daily battle is part of it, but not all. You have seen a lot if you can be so comfortable with death."

I gave a short laugh, "So is this the part where you spill your life story to me in hopes of bringing us closer?"

Her laugh matched mine, "Never, that would be very creamy."

I looked at her sideways, "You mean cheesy?"

Her eyes rolled up in thought, "Yes, I suppose."

"Do you always have problems with idioms?"

"Not always."

"Right."

She scooped up our empty plates and dropped them in the sink. "It is late, we should go to sleep."

"What? We aren't going to watch a chick flick to bond?" Really though, I was getting worried that she wasn't trying to pry any information from me. I kept thinking that any minute now she was going to whip out the Chinese water board.

"I am not the bonding type."

"I see that," I muttered and followed her up the steps. She watched from her door until I closed my own, _paranoid much?_ I quickly pulled a pillow and the comforter off the bed and wrapped myself up in it on the floor. Maybe I was being the paranoid one, but that way if anyone came in during the night they wouldn't be expecting me not to be on the bed.

XXXXXXXXXX

I would be totally lying if I said I slept more than three combined hours that night. I tossed and turned, trying to escape nightmare after nightmare, but never quite managing it. You'd think after all this time of sleeping in strange places I'd be used to it by now, but no.

At around five in the morning, I opened my window and hopped up onto the roof. I looked over the D.C. skyline in brief satisfaction. Then the moment of peace was shattered when I heard light footsteps behind me. "Hey Ziva."

The footsteps stopped, then resumed, "What are you doing up here?"

"Just breathing," I dangled my feet over the edge of the roof.

She dropped down beside me, "You enjoy heights?"

I laughed, "I'm part _bird_."

She nodded, her tangled curls bouncing, "You have a point."

"I know I do."

We were silent for a few minutes.

I finally couldn't take it anymore, "So what's up with you Ziva?"

She looked at me, startled, "What do you mean?"

I gave a short snort, "For one, you're the only Middle Eastern—"

"Israeli," she interrupted.

I nodded, "The only Israeli in NCIS, you aren't like everyone else there, and the way you act is… well for lack of a better word, violent." Not to mention the fact that she had the same flickering look in her eyes I sometimes caught in my own; fear, anger, pain.

She gave me a long look and finally said, "I thought you did not like bonding?"

I smiled, "I'm not bonding, I'm just feeding my insatiable curiosity."

She looked back over the D.C. skyline, "I—." She was cut off by the sound of her own phone ringing. Ziva flipped it open, looking almost relieved, "Agent David."

She paused a moment while listening to the speaker. I caught snippets of the conversation, enough to know that she was talking to a man, who in turn was talking about Jeb. I didn't know any more than that by the time Ziva hung up.

Turns out, I didn't have to strain my ears, "Gibbs is at the Navy Yard, Batcheldor was there when he got there." She looked into my eyes, "He wants to talk to you."

XXXXXXXXXX

Considering Ziva was doing the driving, we got to the Navy Yard in near record time. I wasted no time in jumping out of her bug and running up the steps. I leapt off the stair landing and crashed through the door leading onto the bullpen floor.

"Where is he?" I yelled in rage at the general public.

The elevator dinged at Ziva's entrance. "There is no need to yell," she said calmly, passing me by and giving the NCIS agents who stared at me a killing look. "Follow me," she called over her shoulder.

Seeing no alternative, I followed her. I honestly couldn't tell you how I got there, but somehow I ended up in the same interrogation room I'd been in yesterday. The only difference? The jackass in front of me.

"Maximum?" Jeb looked almost surprised.

I folded my arms and stood in the corner, afraid if I got too close I'd kill him. "You wanted to talk to me, now talk."

He hesitated and I caught a glimpse at just how desperate he was. His hair was matted with grease and grime; deep purple bags under his eyes made his face look hollow. The jeans and button down shirt he wore was torn and muddy. If I would have seen a guy like him on a street corner, I would have felt pity. Now all I felt was a sort of sick pleasure in watching the man fall so far.

"Max, I didn't mean for you to get in this mess," he started pathetically.

I snorted with contained laughter, "Little late for that, don't you think?"

Jeb went on like I hadn't interrupted, "We never met to kill him."

"The Petty Officer? So you were with the Erasers?" My eyes narrowed in disgust, "You just crawled back to them after Dylan, didn't you?"

He shook his head, "No! The Erasers were mine, not Itex's." He looked at me frantically, "I _never _went back to Itex. _Ever_."

I didn't believe him for a second, "Then why did they attack us here?"

He cradled his head in his dirty hands, "Something went wrong in their programming, they caught you're scent and went crazy."

"So none of this is your doing?" I asked mockingly.

He obviously didn't catch on, "None of it."

"Okay then, explain it to me."

When he saw I was actually willing to listen (although I was just amusing him), his eyes glimmered with hope. "I came to D.C. looking for you, to try and talk. I brought some of my Erasers along to help. I managed to track you to that park, but then everything went wrong. Like I said, something went wrong in their programming and they started attacking everything as soon as they smelled you. Me, that Petty Officer, even themselves. Next thing I know, I find out you've been arrested and then attacked. I came in as soon as I could."

The worst part about that whole thing was that it was believable. And completely Jeb-like. I looked for all the telltale signs that he was lying to me, or just messing around, but there were none.

"Okay," I sighed, "What was so important you came clear to D.C. to tell me?"

He looked nervously around the room and heaved in a quiet breath.

"Fang's alive."

* * *

**Dun Dun Duhhhhh...**

**Thanks for all the absolutely, wonderfuly, amazing, reviews I've gotten for this! I love them, and would be absolutely thrilled to see some more (hint, hint, nudge, nudge :P)**

**Thanks!  
Riley61**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Thanks goes to all my wonderful reviewers! You guys are awesome! Enjoy the chapter guys, even though it's kinda sad, if I do say so myself...**

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't even ask.**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

I sat, frozen, for God knows how long, until a warm hand on my arm jolted me from my shock. "Maximum, dear? Are you with us?"

Only now did I realize that I was sitting on a metal table in the morgue. Ducky was staring into my eyes, a crease in his forehead, showing he was concerned. He saw the shift in my eyes as they refocused, "Ah, Maximum, how kind of you to join us!"

I jumped off the table as the events of earlier came rushing back, "Where's Jeb?"

Gibbs answered, striding into the room, "In a detainment cell."

"I need to talk to him," I grabbed my jacket off the table and headed for the door.

As I passed Gibbs, he grabbed my arm and spun me around so that I was facing the way I'd just come, "Who's Fang?"

I gave him The Look, "I already told you when I was looped up."

"Remind me," he commanded.

"He's part of my Flock, my family. I need to know where he is, Jeb knows." I fixed him with a glare, "Take me to Jeb," a pause. "Please."

Gibbs studied me for a long second, and then something in my eyes must have convinced him how desperate I was because he said, "He's on his way to the state penitentiary, hurry up and we can catch him."

I let out a sigh and practically raced him through the building until we came crashing through the doors and into the lobby of NCIS. Jeb was handcuffed in between two police officers, basically leaning on them for support. Anyone else and I would have felt sorry for them, with Jeb I just felt impatient.

I wasted no time and bee lined for him, "Where is he?"

Jeb hesitated and looked around the room nervously.

I grabbed his collar and shoved him against the metal detectors, "Where's Fang?"

He licked his lips, "I don't know where he is, just that he's alive."

"No," I shouted at him, "You're lying; you know exactly where he is. Tell me!"

His eyes darted to Gibbs, who stood behind me; reassuring the police I wasn't going to kill Jeb. Which was probably true. Probably. "I had a location on him a week or so back," he whispered, "but nothing lately."

I pulled him from the metal detectors and slammed him back into them, "You're going to stop beating around the bush and tell me," my voice dropped to a murmur, "or I'll fly you outta here so fast no one will even see us. And then you're dead."

Jeb paled even farther, "H-he was here a week and a half ago, and then he went south." I continued to stare at him until he opened his mouth again, "I swear that's the last I had on him."

"How'd you track him? Can you do it again?" If I had a _real_ chance at seeing Fang again, I wasn't going to pass it up.

Jeb licked his lips again, and I suddenly wondered if he was on drugs, what with all the twitching. "He had a lot of trackers on h-him, but I can't do it again, the equipment was des-destroyed by the Erasers when they went berserk."

"I want the exact locations of where he was at; I don't care if you have to dredge those up from the deepest parts of that big brain of yours, you'll find them for me." I readjusted my grip and tightened it a bit, "Understand?"

Jeb whimpered pitifully and I took that as a yes. I shook him one last time for good measure, and then released him, gently pushing him towards the cops. "He still owes me something," I directed to Gibbs, "Can he go back to the interrogation room?"

The agent gave a short nod.

"And he'll need paper and a pen."

XXXXXXXXXX

I sat across from Jeb, with Tony in the corner of the room, monitoring us. I folded the paper with coordinates on it in half, "Thank you Jeb," you know, 'cause it was the least he could do for me after years of betrayal, "I very much appreciate it."

I stood up and walked over to the door, just because I was on the other side of the table didn't mean I like the small cramped room any more than my previous experiences in it. I was touching the handle when Jeb spoke up, "You're welcome Max."

Something about the way he said those three words made my skin prickle, the hair on my neck stand straight. I whipped around on instinct in time to see Jeb move faster than I thought possible for a human. In a bloody, horrible, flash of motion, the ballpoint pen I'd left on the desk was plunged an inch deep into Jeb's neck.

In that dreadful sense of slow motion that only comes when your adrenaline is running high, I processed my suroundings in short, sharp flashes. Tony stood frozen in the corner, eyes wide. His arms crossed over his chest. Utterly stunned. Jeb convulsing. Body all too quickly giving up.

As the first pump of blood arched across the table to the seat I'd vacated only moments ago, I leaped across the table as Tony came to. He helped me wrestle the pen out of Jeb's blood-slicked hand—not like Jeb put up much of a fight. With a small grunt, he let go of the pen, and slumped forward. I threw the instrument of death across the room, and stared at the blood gushing between Tony's fingers clamped over my father's neck.

My father, dying in front of me, because I had forgot to collect a pen. My ears rang in shock. Stupid! So, stupid! Yes, I hated his very being, but seeing my biological father bleeding out in front of me evoked a gut wrenching feeling deep, very, very, deep, down.

"Max!" the ringing started to clear, "Get help!" I didn't have to though, because two EMT's burst through the interrogation doors, and Gibbs' hand reached through the door, grabbing my sleeve, and pulling me out into the hallway.

The hand left my sleeve and I slid down the wall to sit on my butt. I rested my head in my bloody hands and temporarily blanked out. I didn't pass out, but I just wasn't _there_, not thinking anything rational, or even really thinking at all other than the constant loop _My father just committed suicide, my father just committed suicide._

Eventually, gentle hands grabbed me and pulled me up so I was leaning against a broad chest, the hands rubbed my back, in a non-creepy kind of way. And for once, I think I was okay with someone being in my personal space.

"It's okay Max, he's at the hospital now, and they'll save him." Tony continued to mumble reassurances above my head.

I pulled away and walked back into the interrogation room, looking at the blood decorating the floor, table, wall, and chair. I wasn't that stupid, I knew that much blood meant death.

_My father just committed suicide._

I pulled out my chair and sat down heavily.

I heard Tony shut the door behind him, "You shouldn't have had to see that. Was that the first time you saw something like that?"

I shook my head, continuing to stare straight ahead, "It was the person."

"But you hate him, don't you?" I could hear the confusion in his voice.

I turned to face him, my face as blank as I could possibly make it, "Tony, that was my dad."

XXXXXXXXXX

They tried to hide the report from me, but I saw the file exchange hands before coming to rest on Gibb's unoccupied desk. From there I read it;

_**Victim: **Jebediah Batcheldor_

_**Time: **9:36 A.M._

_**Where:** Bethesda Hospital_

_**Cause: **__Exsanguination_

_**Ruling:** Suicide_

_Jebediah Batcheldor, pronounced dead at 8:36 A.M. on March 17, at Bethesda Hospital, District of Columbia, United States of America. The victim suffered from self-induced trauma to the __common carotid __artery, and later bled to death. No reason has been found for the victim's behavior._

My father was dead. And the worst part was that I had a sneaking suspicion that my behavior triggered his own. I was the cause if his death. And I probably wouldn't even shed a tear.

I was long out of those.

For the first time since everything happened, I unfolded the piece of paper that had Fang's information on it. Now, more than ever I needed to find him. Him, Fnick, our fearless Flock member, the one who made me smile and want to strangle him at the same time, Fang.

The note was so perfectly white, not a hint of red. Completely betraying the blood spattering the room moments after it had been written. An oddly fitting symbol to the eradication of what small, small amounts of innocence I had left.

Looking at the paper, all I saw was a list of coordinates, until, about halfway down the page, I saw a small, brief paragraph written in a hurried scrawl.

_For my daughter,_

_I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused. I did everything I did with both you and the Flock in mind. I wish the last time you saw me didn't have to be like this, but it's really the only way. Itex is gone, but there are always bigger threats. Always. This was the only way I could keep everyone safe._

_I'm Sorry._

I shivered, it felt like a cool wisp of air had drug across my bare shoulders. But once I started shivering, I couldn't bring myself to stop, until I stared at one word on that page so hard my eyes became unfocused. Fang.

I had to find him. He was the only one left. And maybe it was selfish of me to want to bring him close when I knew everything near me died, but I couldn't help it. Why should he be the only one with a happy ending? I _deserved_ one for Christ's sake! Just one goddamned time I wanted to have everything _I _wanted for more than just a moment before it was snatched away!

I glanced around the office, finding almost everyone gone. I ducked into McGee's computer station, and brought up a map. I was painstakingly finding each coordinate on the map from the note, and then copying the destination on a paper, when a voice behind me said quietly, "You know, there's an easier way to do that."

I turned around slowly to see Gibbs standing there. Fanned out behind him was the rest of the team; Ziva, Tony, McGee, and to my surprise, Abby.

I shrugged jerkily and offered a shaky smile, "This is the only way I know."

XXXXXXXXXX

Coordinates found, belly full, and clean of blood, I was itching to get on the road and head to the D.C. listing on the route. But of course, being government agents, they were worried about safety.

"Max is still a witness, she shouldn't go, in case the location's insecure," McGee said.

I sighed and swiveled my head to the next speaker, Ziva, "Max has shown she is quite capable of taking care of herself. Besides, it is _her_ friend we are looking for."

Tony shook his head, "As senior field agent, I say she needs to stay here, like McGee said, she's a witness, and just a teenager."

I snorted and looked to Gibbs, the decision maker, even though I personally was going with or without his permission. Still, these people had helped me more in the past three days than most people had in my whole life, so I was trying to show them a little courtesy.

Finally, after staring at me for what seemed like hours, he came to a conclusion, "Ziva's right, it's her family, and her life on the line. She's coming. Get her a vest and a new jacket." Tony and McGee grumbled, but complied.

Ten minutes later I was strapped into a bullet proof vest, and a light spring jacket of Abby's (at least I'm assuming based on the red and white skulls decorating the black material). My wings were a bit uncomfortable under the vest, but it was tolerable.

Tony, Ziva and I rode in Tony's car, while McGee rode with Gibbs. Even though I'd been allowed to come, it had been clearly outlined that under no circumstance was I to fly anywhere. This, as much as I hate to admit, was probably best considering my wing still ached when I flapped it more than a couple times.

Twenty unbearable minutes passed by before we pulled up on the curb of the address matching the coordinates of the D.C location Jeb had given us. Even though I knew he was long gone, I still hoped beyond all reason that Fang would be behind that brightly colored door of one of many seemingly normal townhouses that decorated D.C.

The team exited the cars and fanned out around the house, guns drawn, like they'd done it a million times before. I got out as well, but, as promised, stood next to the car, leaning against its side. Gibbs pounded on the door and announced them as NCIS. When no one responded, he kicked in the door.

As anxious as I was, I remained by the car, having no wish to be shot accidently. Ten minutes later, Gibbs came out and gestured me inside. I ran up the cement walk and through the door. "Is he here?"

I already knew he wasn't, but I didn't expect there to be people in the house; especially people in suits and ties, professional looking men with guns. The one that stood in front of the others, the leader, was on the shorter side, a little round, with a balding head and somewhat snake eyes.

"Max, this is Agent Fornell, he's with the FBI, and this is their safe house."

Good God Fang, what did you do?

* * *

**I've been very fortunate to not have dealt with death on a massive level. Like seriously, the closest relative to me to die was my Great Uncle George (rest in peace). That being said, I'm not sure on Max's reaction. I tried to the best of my knowledge to write her emotions well for the situation, but again, I don't know. But since she's obviously had some serious daddy issues, I don't really think she'd act like a normal teenager who lost her dad. Oh, I don't know. Forget my rambling.  
****What I'm really asking is, for future reference, was it acceptable?  
Thanks!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Has anyone noticed the most awesome characters have serious daddy issues? There's Tony and Gibbs and Ziva and Max just from this story, not to mention the other thousands of characters out there in both television and books. I don't know, just an observation...**

**Anyway, here's the next chapter, and thanks goes to all my amazing reviewers (yet again)!**

**Disclaimer: I shouldn't even have to say it -_-****

* * *

**

**Chapter Seven**

"Fang?" Agent Fornell asked in confusion.

I nodded, "Yes, Fang. He's about six feet two inches tall, black floppy hair, olive skin, black eyes, broad shouldered."

"Don't forget the wings," chimed in McGee jokingly. Myself, Tony and Ziva gave him an excruciatingly sharp look (like, I'm surprised it didn't draw blood), except for Gibbs.

"We can trust him Max, he doesn't have _that_ bad of judgment," Gibbs reasoned.

Fornell groaned, "I'm still sending the alimony checks."

Confused and impatient, I continued on, "Anyway, did you see him?"

The FBI guys shook their heads.

I huffed, "He was here at one point, and considering this is an FBI safe house, that's kind of hard to believe the FBI's never heard of him."

They all stared at each other for a moment before one of the other guys (fair-haired and built like a quarter back) thought of something, "There was a break-in ten days ago here."

I considered that a second and then nodded, "That makes sense." I turned on my heel and headed out the door. I was walking down the sidewalk when the rest of them caught up.

"Does this Fang character break-and-enter a lot of places?" Fornell asked suspiciously.

I laughed, "We all did."

The little bald man's eyes took on a glint I would recognize in every policeman, security guard, and government official in the U.S.A., "That's illegal you know."

I smiled, "Only if you get caught." We'd reached the car and I turned to the NCIS members, "Obviously he's not here, I have the list, I can go on my own from here. You don't have to come, it's not your responsibility, and you shouldn't get hurt trying to find him."

They all stared at me for the longest time like I was an idiot.

"I understand I still have to testify," I defended myself, "even though no one's going to believe me anyway, but I'll be back in time for that, I promise."

They continued to stare.

"I'm serious, I can handle this on my own. I appreciate everything you've done for me, but you shouldn't risk your necks for me."

"Max, you do realize we didn't have to come here with you today, right?" Tony asked, enunciating carefully like I was slow-witted.

I nodded.

"Why do you think we did?"

I sighed in exasperation, "Only God knows why feds do anything they do."

Ziva laughed, "Is it wrong that I am starting to like her?"

XXXXXXXXXX

Four hours later, I was sitting in the back of a van with Tony driving, Ziva riding shotgun, and McGee occupying the seat next to me. As I sighed for the sixth time in twenty minutes, Ziva spun around in the seat with a threatening glare.

I copied her look, "That might work on some people Ziva, but not me."

She grimaced, "Then stop your sighing!"

I crossed my arms over my chest, "I'm willing to negotiate," I said sweetly.

Her eyes narrowed and I caught Tony's suspicious look in the rearview mirror, "And what would this deal entail?"

McGee snored loudly next to me and I considered squeezing his nose; but since he hadn't done anything to me, I decided not to. "You let me fly for an hour, and I'll stop my annoying habits."

"No," was the immediate answer.

I sighed, making it an exaggerated gesture and rolled down my window all the way. Twenty minutes of sighing, humming, and sticking my head out the window later, the van was jerked to a halt along an empty stretch of backwoods dirt road.

"Get out!" Tony shouted in exasperation.

I smirked in self-satisfaction and flung open the door. I threw my windbreaker back in the vehicle and shook out my tawny feathered wings. Damn that felt good! Tony pulled away with a strict order to fly above and in front of them and to get back in an hour. I agreed hastily, anything to fly again.

With a powerful sweep of my wings, I launched myself in the air. My wing twinged in discomfort, still sore from the bullet, but it was totally worth the rush of fresh air over my body. I made sure to stay in the agent's line of sight, but other than that, I didn't keep any boundaries. If I felt like doing loop-de-loops through the air, I did, if I wanted to glide, I did, if I felt the sudden urge to fly backwards, nothing stopped me.

I didn't care how idiotic I looked from down below, I was free.

-X-X-X-X-

"She's beautiful up there," Ziva whispered in awe to the van in general, but since McGee was sleeping, only Tony heard.

He bobbed his head, "Certainly in her element."

"What do you think of her?" Ziva had formed many opinions of Max, none of which seemed to remain for long.

He frowned, "She's seen way too much for any sixteen year-old. I don't know how she hasn't fallen apart yet."

"She's strong."

"Of course she is, but it takes more than strength to get through life," Tony said, "You of all people should know that."

"I know, but strength will get you farther than anything else."

Tony wanted to argue, but decided against it. "I don't care how tough that girl has, she watched her dad less than 24 hours ago die."

Ziva was filled with the sudden, gut-wrenching memory of seeing the blown-up safe house, blood everywhere and her own father missing. She stayed silent.

Tony, however, felt the need to fill the silence, "Even you couldn't be that cold seeing your father die." He seemed to realize it was the wrong thing to say moments after it left his mouth.

Ziva decided to let him slide and responded to his comment, keeping her gaze firmly on Max, flying high in the sky, "No, I could not. That is one reason I worry about Max. She isn't normal, other than her obvious differences, she does not respond like a normal teenager."

"Do you think something's wrong with her?"

She considered, "Life has just been too hard on her."

-X-X-X-X-

I sighed and wrestled my knotty hair into some semblance of order as we approached the second location on the list. This one was a farmhouse, permanently occupied, which made me wonder why Fang would choose to go here.

"So is Fang your boyfriend?" Tony asked from the passenger seat. McGee had taken to driving, Ziva took his place, and Tony hers.

I blushed a little, "No, or he was, but I guess not really if he left."

Tony smiled, "Don't get too worried, there had to have been a good reason if he left."

I grimaced, oh believe me, I went through every possible reason for his departure, and I hated every single one. "Maybe," I said instead.

"Turn here McGee," Ziva said.

The van made a right into a gravel drive that led to a small little farmhouse. The barn was almost as big as it was, and the shed not far behind. Still, it was nice, with a tended flowerbed, freshly painted shutters, and a homey front porch. I couldn't see Fang breaking in here at all.

We all got out of the car, and this time no one argued with me about coming to the door. Then again, guns weren't drawn this time either. Tony knocked on the door, and we waited in tense silence for the door to open.

Finally, it did, revealing a tiny woman in her late fifties behind the screen door. She looked the classic farm wife, wearing a floral printed dress with a pale pink apron covering the front and wiping her flour covered hands on the hem of it. "Can I help you?" she asked in a tiny voice with a country twang.

The three federal agents flashed their badges, "Mrs. Weber, we're Agents David, McGee, and DiNozzo, from NCIS, and we'd like to ask you and your husband a few questions."

"Oh," she squeaked, "of course," her hands swiftly undid the latch on the screen door and she let us in.

The living room was just as country classic as the rest of the place, she pointed us to the couch and chairs, "Please, have a seat. Do you want something to eat, or drink?"

"No thank you, ma'am," Tony's said politely.

"One moment then, dear, let me get my husband." She skipped off to the kitchen, where I heard her whisper, "Harry, there are some government agents out there that want to talk to us. What did you do now? Are you stealing cable again? So help me God, Harry, if—"

"I didn't do anything, sweet pie, come one then, don't leave 'em waiting."

Mrs. Weber returned with her husband, a balding, portly man, in tow. "This is my husband, Harry. Harry, this is Agent's David, McGee, and DiNozzo." She glanced as me, "What's your name deary?"

I ducked my head in greeting, "Max."

McGee cleared his throat, "Now that introductions are done, we need to ask you a few questions."

"Like what?" Harry asked.

"Have you ever seen a boy, sixteen years old, six foot tall, with dark hair and eyes?" Tony questioned.

The couple shared a look, "Of course! Nicholas is his name, he stayed here for a day a week or so back," Harry answered.

The agents looked at me, making sure this Nicholas person was Fang, I nodded. Who knew he'd still be using his old fake name?

Mrs. Weber looked concerned, "He isn't a fugitive is he? I knew we shouldn't have let him stay! I told you Harry—"

"No, no, Mrs. Weber," Ziva reassured her, "he isn't a criminal, we just need to find him."

"Can you tell us anything about his stay?" Tony asked will scribbling on a little notebook.

"Sure can," said Harry, who I was beginning to see would be the more helpful of the two. "Nicholas came here, what? Six days ago? Yeah, six. It was storming pretty bad that night and he just showed up on our door step, asking for a place to stay the night."

"And being the good folks we are," Mrs. Weber put it, "we couldn't refuse a handsome young boy a place to stay. Polite boy he was too, knew his manners."

"How long did he stay here?" I was getting excited, maybe he had mentioned where he was headed. Sure, we had the list, but something concrete would be so much more helpful at this point.

They consulted each other, "He left the next night, at around sunset. We tried to convince him to stay, but he was hearing none of it."

"Did F-Nick," I sighed at the memory of another slip up like that, "say anything about where he was going?"

They shook their heads, "No, he was real secretive about that, wouldn't tell us more than he was going south."

My hope died a little.

"Did he say, or do anything else of note?" Tony asked, still furiously scribbling away.

"Well, he ate an awful lot of food, even for a growing boy. And he talked in his sleep, something about a man by the name of Jeb, and his 'pets'. Nonsense talk to my ears," Mrs. Weber supplied.

Despite the fact that I was creeped out that she watched him sleep (must have to heard him talk), I was really grateful to these people. "Thank you so much," I shook each of their hands. "May we see where he slept?"

Harry nodded and led us to a spare bedroom, most of the furniture looked hand crafted, and the quilt on the bed most definitely was. It was sparse yet cozy. Looking at the bed, I could almost see Fang stretched out on his stomach, sleeping with his mouth slightly ajar, just like he used to. Harry left us alone after Ziva informed him we could show ourselves out.

The three agents went through the room foot by foot, examining every immaculately cleaned space there was. Ten minutes into the search, McGee found a crumpled up piece of paper under the bed. I snatched it from his hands practically before he knew he even had it.

In Fang's strong hand, was a sketch of the Flock; all of the original kids, Fang, Iggy, Nudge, Angel, Gazzy, and me. No Jeb or Ari or Dylan or Total, no one but us, our family. It was drawn so well I almost cried at the sight of Fang's intense eyes, Iggy's freckles, Nudge's frizzy hair, Angel's blue-eyed innocence, Gazzy's oh-so-mischievous grin, and my determined chin. It was incredible, and it was in a ball under the bed.

I flipped it over, looking for anything else; on the back was a short, brief message.

_Max,_

_Something told me I should write this. I don't know rather I'm going crazy or not. If you don't see this then I guess no one will be witness to my psychotic ramblings. If you do see this, well then I wasn't so crazy after all. Anyway, I didn't know what to write, maybe this'll be enough. If you're looking for me, don't. The Flock needs you, I don't. I mean, that came out wrong. I do need you, but the flock needs you more. Oh, I don't know. Isn't it funny, I can never seem to say more than a sentence, but when I write everything comes spilling out? Or maybe it's just because of Mrs. Weber's lasagna, that lady's a horrible cook._

_I don't know what else to say._

_Fang._

"What is on the other side?" Ziva interrupted the silence softly, after the four of us had read the note.

I flipped it over again, handing it to her and collapsing on the bed. He was really alive. Yeah, I knew it before, but now, after seeing actual, tangible proof, it was different. He's alive! Fang, my best friend and flock mate, is alive! I felt like getting up and doing the jig, but after some thought, decided that probably wasn't a very good idea.

Tony was the first to look up from the picture, "Is this your Flock?" he asked quietly.

I nodded, "That was them."

"Which one's Fang?"

I came over and pointed him out, "That one. And that's Iggy, Gazzy, Angel, Nudge, and me."

McGee stared at me for a while, "Max," he began, and I knew I wouldn't like the question, "What happened to the rest of your Flock?"

I tried to muster a glare, but I really didn't have it in me, "Didn't Gibbs tell you?"

They all shook their heads, and Tony elaborated, "We asked a couple times, but he said it wasn't his place to tell us."

Okay, at this point, Gibbs might have been moving a little higher on my internal scoreboard. I had thought for sure that he had told them, that no adult would honor my wishes. Call it Peter Pan Syndrome, but I just didn't trust adults. "But you guys," Tony and Ziva, "were behind the glass when I told Gibbs everything."

Ziva nodded, "Yes, but before you started, when he told you he would not tell anyone, he made us cut the feed. The tapes were stopped and we could not hear or see anything."

Again, a few more points were added to Gibbs total.

McGee continued to look at me questioningly. I sighed, "My Flock, they all died. Fang and I are all that's left."

Silence and pitying looks followed my revelation. The last thing I wanted was pity.

Ziva, of all those here, seemed to understand that the most. Her brown eyes were quickly filled with determination, "Then let's keep looking for Fang."


	8. Chapter 8

**So, yeah, deeply sorry for my lack of updating. I was at my dad's for a while (he's like a caveman-or Gibbs-; no internet, no computer, only local T.V., and bajillions of hand tools), and then I'm still working on my own novel, and of course school is a killer. But I know you probably don't care and are now thinking 'Just give me the damn chapter already', so here it is :)**

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

Three days later we'd hit three of the four remaining stops on the list. It was still Ziva, McGee, Tony, and I on the road, with Gibbs reportedly holding down the fort at NCIS. We'd been alternating between middle-class hotels and sleeping in the van, and eating at fast food joints and grabbing gas station sandwiches to eat in the van. I hated subjugating the NCIS team to living like this, even though for me it wasn't that big of a change in pace.

Two out of three of those places on the list had been abandoned houses or warehouses, and the third was a park, which, believe me, made finding out anything damn near impossible. The only new information we'd learned was that Fang had somewhere along the line eaten five gas station burritos at once. Ew.

So yeah, this was our last chance. And by now, my three new (deep breath) _friends_ were just as eager to find him as me, and I didn't know what we'd do if he wasn't there. I, at least, knew that there was no freaking way I was going to stop looking for him, not after all this. And I'd probably end up literally flying the team home to get them to return to their normal lives.

We pulled into this tiny little driveway next to an equally tiny house. It was an eggshell white with a porch and a front door that nearly took up the whole front of the house. In the overgrown yard, a For Sale sign was staked into the dry dirt.

We were somewhere in the south east of Virginia, by the ocean, in a medium sized city. It was cute, like a lot of people would come here for vacation, but right now, since temperatures were just starting to crest the fifties, it was creepily empty. And with the economy in the crapper, there were dozens of houses for sale in the city.

"Max," Ziva reached over from the seat next to me and patted my knee, "If he is not here we'll still help you. Even if it is just to fund your trip. We will help."

I plastered on a fake smile I wasn't really feeling, "No need Ziva, he'll be here." That was maybe even more for my benefit than hers.

She smiled even as her eyes flickered with uncertainty, "Then let's go find him."

Tony picked the lock on the door and our little procession filed into the dark, chilly house. I almost screamed when I saw the rat scuttle across the floor, I was so tense. And then I about cried when the house was searched with nothing to show for it.

I sat down heavily on the floor, not caring the least that my ass was probably squishing rat shit. I ran my hand through my hair and took many calming breaths. It couldn't just end like this. I had to find him.

The only problem? I had no freaking idea where to go from here. All we've had to go on was Jeb's stupid list. And Fang was too good to leave anything incriminating around.

Tony kneeled down in front of me, "Max, don't worry, we'll find Fang."

I laughed bitterly, "And how do you suppose we'll do that? It's not like he's been posting road signs! We don't know where he is. And if he doesn't want me to find him, I won't." Tony still looked hopeful until I popped his bubble with a razor-sharp needle, "He's good Tony. We all were. The only thing that could find us was Erasers. And that was only because we had tracking chips in our skin."

"Then let's head back to D.C.," He stood up suddenly and headed for the door.

"What?" Tony was like a dog, when he got his teeth into something he didn't let go until it was his. And he was giving up this argument awfully quick.

He shrugged and opened the door, "You seem very intent on not finding him, so let's go home. No sense standing here without a clue, we'll see what we can find at the office."

I hesitated, "Okay."

He wanted to get me to admit we could do it, that we could find Fang. But I was out of hope. Our last chance was gone, I was done.

At least, that's what I kept telling myself.

XXXXXXXXXX

The day after we got back to D.C., we were in that freaking office at the ungodly hour of five a.m. At least no one else was happy about it either. Except maybe Gibbs, no one could tell with him.

"So yeah, that trip was a bust," Tony concluded, giving his boss the rundown.

"Maybe not completely Boss," Abby said, suddenly appearing with McGee at her elbow.

At Gibbs' insistent gaze, McGee spoke up. "You know the chip Ducky found in Jeb's stomach?"

I cringed. I'd already made the mistake of going down to the morgue this morning. Ducky had just finished sewing up Jeb's body. I all but ran from the cold room and up the stairs.

"Well we got it to work," Abby continued, "and we figured out it's like a flash drive."

"Only ten times more sophisticated," McGee put in. Oh yes, Itex was nothing if not sophisticated in their technology.

"What's on it?" Ziva asked.

"Some of it's the basic data of some of the specifics of you and your flock," Abby looked at me. "That would take years in itself to sort through."

"And the rest?"

McGee almost looked at a loss for words, "It's almost like a tracking monitor, but it's more than that. It could hypothetically track anyone on the entire planet by simply submitting a piece of DNA—hair, blood, saliva, skin— or a fingerprint to the machine."

"What machine?" I asked. So is that the way we'd been followed all those years? No wonder we didn't stand a chance.

McGee and Abby exchanged a look. "That's the thing, we have no idea," Abby explained. "I've never seen anything like this before. It's crazy how this thing would work."

"Do you guys have any idea what it would look like?" Maybe I could revisit one of the old Itex complexes, see if anything survived my Rage.

McGee messed with his computer for a minute before throwing something up on the plasma. "Based on some of the stuff he said, it would look something like this. Maybe."

I jumped out of my chair and inspected the sketch closer. "I know this thing," I whispered before turning around. "I've seen it before. When we were little, Jeb helped us make a time capsule and bury it. That's what he put in there!"

Gibbs was looking about as excited as he was able to show, "Do you still know where it is?"

I nodded, "It's at our old house in Colorado, buried on top of this hill."

"Ziva, Max," he barked at us, "pack your bags. We three are going on a little vacation."

XXXXXXXXXX

Gibbs absolutely refused to let me fly there. Even though it'd be a day shorter and about $1,200 cheaper. At least, thank God, they had enough sense to find me a window seat with no one sitting next to me. I hated flying as much, if not more, than I hated cars. The only consolation with planes was that if we were to crash, I could fly away.

But it still wasn't very relaxing.

"Stop fidgeting," Ziva said, turning around to lock eyes.

I shrugged and muttered, "I _hate_ planes."

She turned around, saying, "We're almost there."

When we touched down, I shoved people out of my way to touch the ground first. I breathed in fresh, un-recycled air and instantly starting feeling better.

We rented a dark blue Jeep Cherokee and drove away from suburbia and towards the mountains. I was allowed out to fly once, and only because we got lost and had no idea which way the house was. It was super easy to be turned around up here and have no clue where you ended up.

I sprung out of the SUV as soon as Gibbs uttered the word, "Fine."

Launching myself into the air, I reveled in the sharp, mind numbing, mountain air. It was the best in the world, pure, unlike the stale city air I'd been breathing for weeks.

It turned out we'd been closer than we thought, but I still flew around for a while, hoping Gibbs and Ziva weren't planning to go anywhere soon. We still had plenty of daylight, so I wasn't too concerned.

Eventually, like an hour and a half after I'd first left, I flew back to the Jeep parked on the side of the road. I touched down, sending a small dust cloud puffing into the air around us.

"It's just over the ridge."

Ziva glared, "It took you almost two hours to figure that out?"

I just grinned and hoped back into the Jeep. It took us another fifteen minutes to get there, having to take a winding road that included a ten-minute hike through an overgrown path. When Jeb had built the house, he didn't want _anyone_ to find it.

When we finally stumbled out into what used to be the yard and was now a field with knee high grass, I felt a rush of emotions tumble through me. The last time I'd been here was shortly after Gazzy died. Nudge and I came back here, knowing it wasn't safe in the least but needing some small sort of comfort nonetheless. If it was empty then, it was downright deserted now.

The first place I'd ever called home was now a rat-infested pit with trees literally growing up through the floorboards.

Even though the machine and time capsule were about another mile hike away, I headed for the house, the government agents trailing behind. It didn't take much force to knock the warped wooden door off its hinges. I stepped inside and just took it all in.

Where the couch should have been there was a big empty hole where the Erasers had set off a mini-bomb on Nudge and me. A strong sapling was flourishing in the corner under the rays of sun from a hole in the ceiling made from god knows what.

As I ventured further into the house, I saw the same signs of destruction everywhere. Shattered windows, gaping ceiling holes, vegetation in places it shouldn't be, even bloodstains spattering the walls and floor.

"This is where you live?" Gibbs asked, sounding mildly astounded.

I shrugged and kicked a shredded teddy bear that I was pretty sure had belonged to Nudge, "Used to."

Ziva shouldered aside a falling support beam, "What happened in here?"

"Nudge and I were attacked here a year ago."

"By those Erasers?"

I nodded.

If I didn't already know this house, I wouldn't have had a clue what room was which, that's how destroyed it was. It was especially impossible to distinguish the bedrooms apart. Not that I went in any of them, not even mine. It felt like they belonged to different kids, long gone.

I brushed past Gibbs in the hallway, "Let's go. The machine's a little ways away and the sun's going to set in an hour or two."

He grunted in agreement and followed me out of the house. I only looked back at it once as we stepped into the forest again. But when I did, I was filled with a dreadful certainty I'd never see it again.

Which, in all honestly, was probably for the better.

XXXXXXXXXX

I grunted as I flung the last of the dirt out of the hole with the shovel. I'd dug at least six feet before hitting the capsule with a metallic clang. Even Gibbs had been impressed at my pace, which hadn't slowed since I'd started. For a number of reasons really, mostly though, because I just wanted to leave this place. With the house just down the hill and the too happy memories associated with the day we'd buried this thing, I was becoming jittery.

"Can you lift it up by yourself?" Ziva called down from the edge of the hole.

I nodded and pried away some more dirt before reaching down. Once I wiggled the metal box out of the dirt, it was easy to pick up, even weighing about three hundred pounds (Nudge had gone a little overboard). "Back up!" I shouted before tossing the box into the air so it landed with a crash right where Ziva had been moment earlier.

I launched myself out of the whole and landed next to the box. "Did you bring a crowbar?"

Gibbs shook his head, "We aren't opening it until it gets back to the lab."

"You can't be serious," I gaped. "We finally found what we need to find Fang and we have to wait another day?"

"Max," Ziva glanced at her boss before continuing, "We do not know what kind of traps are on that thing. It is better to be safe than sorry."

I threw my hands I the air, "Jeb would do a lot of things, but he wouldn't purposely hurt us. He told us to dig this up if something ever happened to him. He wouldn't tell us that just to kill us." I muttered under my breath, "He'd had plenty of chances to kill us if he'd wanted."

But Gibbs had no pity, "It's not being opened until its back in D.C."

XXXXXXXXXX

Let's face it folks, there was no way that box was going to make it to D.C. without me taking a peek. I don't care how stupid you are, you should have at least figured that out.

Back at our hotel, I lay on my bed in the room I was sharing with Ziva.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to dinner with us?" She asked for like the seventh time.

I glared, "No Ziva, I don't want to go. I'm drained right now. Just let me order some room service."

She stared at me with her huge chocolate eyes for twenty seconds more before opening the door, "Okay, but you are not to leave this room, under any circumstance, while we are gone. When I get back, I expect to see you in that same exact spot." She paused, "Understood?"

I shrugged, "Sure."

"Max," she sighed.

"Ziva," I snapped, "I got it, okay? Stay in the room, be a good bird-child."

A ghost of a smile fainted across her lips before she left.

I waited until I heard Gibbs' door close as well before I so much as twitched. And then I lay there for another three minutes before jumping off the bed and grabbing my small bag with Ziva's clothes that I'd been wearing. I flung the strap across my back and cracked the door, checking for anyone standing guard waiting to say, "Gotcha!" or some other stupid remark.

The corridor was blessedly empty as I ducked next door and swiped a key card through the slot to Gibbs' room. They'd given me both keys in case of an emergency. God I hated being treated as a child.

The dirty metal box was in the bathroom, right where I'd left it sitting in the tub. The lock on it wasn't anything special; in fact, it would have been ridiculously easy to break. But I had to make this inconspicuous. I slipped Ziva's lock pick set from the bag on my back and wiggled the picks into the lock. Lock picking was never my forte, but I could still do it, so in under a minute the padlock sat heavily in my palm.

I remembered everything that'd been put into that box something like ten years ago. Gazzy had put his GI Joe doll and his 'lucky' peanut butter and jelly sandwich into it after a great debate on whether or not to include his first bellybutton lint ball. Angel's favorite pink hair ribbon and a small, downy white feather was her contribution. Like I said, Nudge went a little overboard. At least a dozen stuffed animals, her first princess makeup kit which she had recently deemed immature, her Doctor Seuss book, a sparkly pink pony, and a too small charm bracelet constituted a major portion of the contents. Iggy gave up his toy spatula and his first vial of homemade liquid explosive.

By that time I briefly reconsidered opening this thing after all, even with Iggy's reassurance that four years from when he put the vial into the box it would be unusable. Still, I was too curious to let the time capsule be.

Fang dropped his first leather jacket rather unceremoniously into the capsule and sauntered away. And me? I tossed in a Chips Ahoy! Chocolate Chip Cookie wrapped in my first and last dress I'd ever owned. I didn't really take the time capsule thing all that seriously. I just threw in the dress because I wanted to get rid of it and the cookie because it was stale.

Still, as I wrenched open the rusted lid, I fought the urge to cry at all the memories that came rushing back to me. It was like a damn was cracking and everything I'd stuffed up for so long was finally leaking out.

I took two deep breaths and set aside the lid, digging past all the memories until I felt cool metal. I yanked on what felt like a handle and pulled until a sleek machine about the size of a toaster knocked everything out of its way before popping out of the top.

It looked almost exactly like Abby and McGee's computer sketch of the tracker. It was shiny silver with black accents. It almost looked like a miniaturized typewriter that weighed a lot less too. It was hard to believe this little device had the power to change my life.

I heard the elevator down the hall rumble as a car came up. I shoved everything hastily back into the capsule and slammed the lid down, locking the padlock as I flung the backpack over my shoulder. I ran to the door and looked around for anything out of place. Nodding in satisfaction, I flung open the door and about ran into Gibbs' chest.

"What are you doing?" Ziva asked from his shoulder.

I shrugged off the backpack, "I wanted to change but couldn't find my bag. Figured it was in here." Thank god for the many opportunities I'd been given to perfect my lying skills.

Of course, they only believed me because they had no evidence to the contrary, but hey, beggars can't be choosers.

I sidestepped them both and ducked into my room with Ziva on my tail.

XXXXXXXXXX

I pushed open the stairway door and strolled in through the bullpen, the time capsule weighing me down as I carried it. Gibbs', of course, knew I'd opened it, but didn't say anything about it, which was awesome of him. And since he could plainly tell I had all my extremities and didn't seem to be any more out of it than usual, he didn't bother with handing over the capsule to Abby until the tracker had been removed and we didn't need the rest.

Yeah, I was super uncomfortable with just handing over all our memories to the NCIS team, but I had a considerable amount of faith in them that they wouldn't speak a word of what was in that box to anyone. At least I hoped. Really, really hoped.

I dropped the case in the middle of the floor and didn't bother picking the lock; instead, I snapped it off and tossed it with a little smirk to Tony, who stood there gaping. Gibbs, gloved in disposable latex, took the lid off and grabbed the machine, pulling it out and then snapping the lid back in place.

He set in on McGee's desk, "Work your magic, Tim."

McGee was eyeing the tracker like a kid who'd spotted a mound of presents on Christmas morning, "Will do Boss." He sounded distant, like we was already puzzling over the ways to get the thing to work.

He almost ran it to Abby's lab.

XXXXXXXXXX

I pushed my way to the front of the group gathered around Abby's table.

"So, after we realized it runs off biomass energy, we charged the puppy up and got to playing," Abby rubbed her hands together like a mad scientist, which was an oddly scary gesture coming from her. "We tested it out with a piece of Max's hair, just to see if it worked."

When had they gotten my hair?

"And it did! It's crazy smart, Gibbs! I mean, not smart, but so high-tec. I could track a whole army with this thing at once. It's crazy—."

Everyone but McGee, who was busily typing away, glared.

"Right," Abby wasn't in the least bit offended. She was so much like Nudge. Personality wise anyway, because the two looked absolutely nothing alike. "Anyway, we got a piece of Fang's hair from the jacket in the capsule and plugged it in."

"AND?" I might have, sort of, a little bit yelled. She smiled and turned her jazz hands on to frame McGee.

"And," McGee said at last as a black grid showed up on the screen, "there he is."

There, on the monitor which was slowly changing from pitch black to a colorful map, was a tiny, little, blinking red dot.

Fang.

XXXXXXXXXX

"This is it," Ziva announced, pointing out the window to a little cabin half obscured by the woods surrounding it.

I sucked in a deep, calming breath that really didn't do anything for the nerves. And with a jumpy (and I swear to god I'll kill you if you mention this to anyone) giggle, I stepped out of the van, fidgeting in place as the rest of my party got themselves situated. I led the party down the narrow path to the front door of the small log cabin. And then to my horror I giggled again as I pictured Fang chopping wood out back in a flannel shirt and hiking boots, something I would probably _never_ see outside my imagination.

I knocked on the front door and held my breath. Nothing. I did it again, and again, but no one answered. Ziva caught my hand the next time I went to do it and motioned me back. Within seconds, the door was open and Ziva was sliding her bobby pin back into her curly brown hair.

She went through first, Tony next, then McGee, me, and Gibbs brought up the rear. Inside it was organized and warm. The furniture was clunky wood, and the colors were all subdued tones in natural shades. There wasn't any personal touch to it other than a notebook on the table. The notebook was just a simple black spiral bound one. I was moving toward it when Ziva called from the kitchen.

I followed her voice to see the absolute worst, beyond horrible, possible scenario that could have been waiting for us. Blood stained the kitchen sink and counter; bloody handprints smeared the door handle, and perhaps the most heart-wrenching thing of all, a single, black, feather lay in the middle of it all.

* * *

**So there's a definite one more chapter with a possible 'extra' one that would be really short and it would be a missing scene from the next chapter (I think that makes sense?). So yeah, Chapter Nine is it :'(**


	9. Chapter 9

**Last Chapter! And no, Fang's not dead (you wouldn't believe how many people yelled at me for that cliffy :P )  
Disclaimer: No, just no.**

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

I stood there in absolute silence. I felt like I was standing in the eye of a hurricane. Wind, water, and debris raged past me, and I stood still, like one more step and I'd be part of the wreckage whipping around me.

And then, something that still brings goose bumps and rage and fear and relief and almost any other emotion you can think of to me, Fang walked in the door. I swear I could have killed him right then and there, for bringing so much pain and anger and confusion in my life as only he could ever do.

Instead of killing him like I probably should have, I stared, the agents forgotten around me, I stared at Fang. He looked about the same as he did the last time I saw him; shaggy black hair, deep, dark eyes, and olive skin. Only now he sported stubble along his chin, he'd grown a few inches, and put on a couple more pounds of muscle. If it was possible, he was hotter now than before.

For what seemed like eternity, he stared back, until giving me that smile that he saves just for me, the one that literally makes my heart stop, "Hi Max."

"Hey Fang," I whispered in disbelief.

He held up a box of bandages, "I had to run to the store."

"What for?" talking with him was so natural it felt like those two years of separation had never happened.

"Cut my hand on an ax," he showed me his hand wrapped in a dishtowel, "didn't know appendages bled that much."

Maybe it was because I just now realized he was wearing a flannel shirt and hiking boots and had just cut his hand on an ax, or maybe I was in shock, but I started to laugh. And I couldn't stop if I wanted to. Tears streamed down my face in a mix of tears of joy and laughter and in sorrow for the rest of the Flock, who I'd never be reunited with like this. I closed my eyes and wiped some of the tears away.

Strong arms closed around my waist and I instinctually flung my own arms around Fang's neck, burying my face into his chest, "I missed you so much," he whispered into my hair.

After breathing in his scent that I'd gone so long without, I pushed him back a little and slapped him across his face as hard as I possibly could, "Then why the hell did you leave?"

He grinned despite the mark I'd left, "You know why."

At this point, I didn't care why. I'd slapped him, reminding him we had to talk about some things, but Fang was here, right now, and that's all that mattered.

XXXXXXXXXX

Fang squeezed my hand in reassurance as I stood in front of the entire NCIS team—Gibbs, McGee, Ziva, Tony, Ducky, Abby, and Vance.

"I was rusty at fighting Erasers, so I got hurt pretty bad, and that's why you caught me that day in the park. And that's how I got to be here, at NCIS, for the first time, and the rest you know," the truth was the least I owed these people. And this time, I told the whole truth, without skipping over or lying about anything.

Abby was the first to break from the shock of our story, she rushed forward to throw her surprisingly thin strong arms around me, crushing my lungs.

"Oh Max! I'm so sorry I was mean to you! You didn't deserve any of it! I hope you forgive me!" she continued to wring the life from me and beg for my forgiveness at the same time.

"Abby!" she stepped back, startled, at my bark. "I deserved what I got; I was a bitch to you guys at first. I wanted to be as far away from this place as possible, and you guys were the only thing that stood in the way." I took a deep breath, "I don't say this often, but I'm sorry."

I swear Gibbs smiled, no lie.

"Max," Vance's voice cut through the mushy, sobby stuff I hate ever so much, "what are your plans after you leave?"

I shrugged and glanced at Fang, "We aren't really sure yet, but we're good at thinking on the fly," no pun intended.

Vance smiled and stood, the first time I _ever_ saw a single emotion on his face other than annoyance, "On behalf of NCIS, I'd like to offer you a paid internship and free housing—"

"No," I cut in softly.

He seemed flabbergasted, as did everyone else.

"I'm sorry," I said to everyone, "but nothing good comes to those that hang around us." Tony opened his mouth to protest, probably something about how we'd gone over this a million times before, but I didn't let him start. "And besides that, I was thinking I just want to go live somewhere in peace and quiet. I don't think I can deal with any more excitement."

Ziva chuckled, "You say that now, but you are only seventeen. You have barely begun to live."

I smiled, but turned back to Vance, "So no, I'm sorry, but I can't take it. Thank you though."

He seemed to understand my decision, if not necessarily like it, "Let me know if you ever change your mind."

"I will."

"How much longer are you going to stay in D.C.?" Gibbs asked.

Fang answered, "Two days."

"You can stay with me," Ziva offered.

"Fang can come too?" These days, I wasn't letting him out of my sight.

XXXXXXXXXX

We sat on the roof of Ziva's town house, basking in the glow of the sunrise. I was curled into Fang's arms, with his chin resting atop my head.

"How's your hand doing?" I asked sleepily.

"Good, almost healed."

Minutes of silence passed before Fang spoke again, "Do you think they're okay wherever they are now?"

I had told Fang about the Flock shortly after finding him, and of course, with him being Fang, I had no idea how he was taking it. "I hope so, they deserve it, after all they went through."

"Max?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry about Jeb," he drew circles on my arm, causing goose bumps.

I sighed into his chest, "It's not your fault."

"Why do you think he did it?" his soft voice whispered into my ear.

I shrugged, "The note he left didn't make much sense, and I really don't want to dwell on it now."

"Okay," he murmured before catching my lips with his own, maneuvering us so that I sat on his lap.

It had been forever since I'd been kissed, and I rather missed it. The feel of his lips pressed against mine, and his tongue tracing my mouth. I don't know how I survived without that feeling of fire in my belly at Fang's touch. The same touch that made me go weak in the knees and short a marble in the head. I only knew that I would never be able to go that long without it ever again.

Ziva's voice carried through the open window below us that we'd used to come up here. Fang stole one more kiss before pulling me up and jumping through the window. I followed him in and got ready for my last day at NCIS.

XXXXXXXXXX

I stood staring at a green speck on a slide, and then back to the monitor, which contained a larger, magnified version of the microscope slide. "Oh my gosh Abby! It _does_ look like Elvis!"

"I know!" she squealed in delight.

"What looks like Elvis?" Ziva asked, waltzing through the sliding doors.

I pointed at the screen, "This flu bacterium."

"Ah," she said, as if she should have known. Ziva plopped some files on Abby's desk.

"Hey Ziva?"

"Yes Max?"

"Are you guys busy right now?" This was my last day here, and I wanted to do something other than look at germs, as interesting as it was and all.

"No, not since we finished the Petty Officer's case." And by finished, Ziva really meant NCIS planted some evidence to incriminate a minor but destructive local mob boss, someone they really needed off the streets. It was their favor to me, strike all records of my help, and get a baddie behind bars. Everyone won, except for the baddie of course, but he was, after all, bad. And the Petty Officer had no family to bring justice to anyway, it was only him, and his murderers had already been taken care of, in a far less legal way. "Why do you ask?"

"I thought you might want me to teach you a few fighting tricks? And there were a couple things I was hoping you could help me with." Yes, me, Maximum Ride, had just asked for help. But hey, these people had forcibly shoved some humility down my throat this past week, something I probably needed a little of.

Ziva grinned, "I thought you were never going to ask. Come on," she said, even though I was already up and on my way to the stairs.

I ran into Fang, literally, and we went sprawling. Once we regained our footing, I looked at him questioningly, "What did the guys want with you?" He looked flustered, and I had a hunch it wasn't just because he fell down a few steps.

"Nothing," he responded, but I detected a really, _really_ light blush crawl up his cheeks as we came out onto the main floor, which held the workout room.

"Uh huh," I said unconvinced.

"Nothing, honest. You'll find out soon enough."

I ignored him, a little peeved, as we walked into the gym. Mats covered a large section of the floor, with cardio and weight lifting rooms branching out from the main one. Punching bags, some free weights, and ropes hanging from the ceiling decorated the huge space dedicated to fighting. This was my sort of place.

"Max, Fang!" Ziva called from the other side of the room. We made our way over, stopping by Ziva who was already dressed in workout clothes and strapping on gloves. "Do you want to spar first?"

I shrugged, "Sure."

She threw me some gloves after I took off my sweatshirt and handed it to Fang. He silently took it and sat on a bench close to the area we were practicing on.

I wish I could say it was like my life had been newly re-lighted, like I could see again, once I found Fang. But having Fang back, it was like it should have always been like this. Nothing special, just like my life had been empty (cheesy, I know), but now all was right. No fireworks, except when we kissed, just a wholeness that would never dull. A completeness that made me want to smile. I don't know, I'm probably just crazy. I mean, when did I start writing mushy love thoughts anyway?

Ziva rolled her neck and did a few stretches. Me, I just shook out my wings from the back of my tank top, grateful that we were the only ones in the gym. After Ziva deemed herself warmed up, we faced off. It went a lot like last time, minus the evil glares.

I attacked, and Ziva countered. My foot flew by her shoulder as she twisted out of the way while launching her fist towards my face. I ducked and moved to sweep out her feet, but I knew I was too slow and switched my plan of attack, instead springing up and catching her with my foot in her gut. I made sure to pull all my punches so I didn't cause serious damage, but she still doubled over before momentarily righting herself and coming at me.

Ziva's fist clipped my jaw, with me barely dodging it at all. I spun with the punch though, eliminating its effectiveness, and dropped to the ground under her follow up kick. This time I tackled her legs out from under her, bringing her down to the mat. Before she even fully hit the blue mat, she rolled, sending me diving towards empty air. I grunted and leaped back to my feet, jumping away from her roundhouse kick.

As I staggered backwards from the kick, Ziva ran at me, punching her fist into my nose and snapping my head back. I twisted out of the way before another fist attacked my head. I brought my left leg up and snap-kicked her abdomen, sending her reeling. Ziva was good though, and she flexed just as my foot hit her, lessening the effect immensely, even though she'd undoubtedly have a bruise in the morning.

I could feel the blood dripping from my nose down my face and onto the blue mat, but I didn't wipe it away. I was too focused on Ziva. And the second my eyes flickered towards the sound of an opening door, she sprung at me, efficiently kicking my lower stomach and sending me stumbling.

The stumbling though, was just effect, because Ziva backed off then, and I charged, grabbing her arm and twisting, sending her flying over me and backpedalling at the same time, knocking her off balance (it was a move the Flock and I'd developed). Ziva however, quickly regained her footing. With a finalized resolve, I used my own roundhouse kick, slamming it into her shoulder and following with a heel to her chest with the opposite foot. She stumbled backwards, crashing to the ground where I hurriedly sat on her back, keeping her effectively pinned.

I wiped the sweat off my forehead and looked around to find the source of the applause in the air. Over were I'd last seen Fang was Gibbs, Tony, Vance and him. Tony and Vance clapped slowly, and the other two just looked at us. Fang had known I'd win, and his face didn't show much surprise, but in Gibbs closely guarded expression, I could almost see a flicker of shock. I'd learned by now that most people considered Ziva one of the best fighters around, although I'm sure Gibbs could hold his own in a fight.

I jumped off Ziva's back and helped her up. The victory felt bitter-sweet, I knew I could have beaten her before the fight had even really begun, because I'd pulled my strength and I didn't use my wings, but I still felt Ziva had given me a run for my money, one of the best humans I'd ever fought.

"Nice job," I told her sincerely.

She looked a little agitated, not at me, but herself. She was one of those people who expected too much of themselves. "You too Max."

I walked over to the boys, excepting a towel from Tony to wipe the blood off my face.

"Do you think you could teach me how to do that flip you just did?" Tony asked, getting kind of excited.

I looked at Fang, "Do you want to do it? You're better at it."

He nodded and motioned for Tony to follow him. Tony suddenly didn't look so eager. I couldn't really blame him; Fang looked a whole lot more intimidating than I did.

"Where did you learn to fight like that Max?" Vance asked me once Tony and Fang had started their 'lesson'.

I threw the towel over by my sweatshirt. "We picked up some of it from traveling, Jeb taught us a little, a lot of self teaching, and then there was a brief stint with the Navy in Hawaii," I said, watching Tony be thrown through the air and land on his ass with a grunt.

"You trained with the Navy?" Gibbs asked, voice almost devoid of the surprise that shone in his eyes.

I snorted, "Fat lot of good that did. We taught them more than they taught us."

"Why isn't it in any of the records?" Vance questioned suspiciously.

"Because they failed at the job they were given. No one puts failures in records," I explained distractedly. Tony was growling in annoyance at getting beat up by, and I quote, "a seventeen year old punk."

Gibbs and Vance shared a look, "And what exactly was their job?"

"To recruit my Flock. They tried to show us they could provide us safety and protection, but they couldn't, so we left." It was an idiotic idea anyway. No one could protect us _now_, and there wasn't the whole of Itex on our tails this time.

"So they just erased it from the books?" Gibbs asked incredulously.

I looked at them like they were idiots, "Don't you get it? We were never _on_ the books. They wanted us as secret weapons. The Navy didn't want anyone to know about it."

"The U.S. Navy exploited children?" Ziva asked from behind me. She'd just come back from the bathroom and must have heard the tail end of the conversation.

"Everyone tried to exploit us, Ziva," I was just glad no one ever succeeded.

"But—"

I spun around a little harshly, "I'm sorry, but I really don't want to talk about it." They remained silent, to my relief, and instead we watched Tony and Fang. I laughed at the effortless headlock Fang held Tony in, "Flip him over Tony!" I shouted, trying to be helpful.

Instead of following the instructions without a question, Tony looked up, distracting himself from an already lost cause. Fang easily tossed him to the ground and pinned him with his knees. Tony moaned in defeat.

I only shook my head and turned back to Gibbs, "I don't suppose you'd like to go a round, would you?"

He shook his salt and pepper haired head, "You have your work cut out teaching Tony anyway."

I looked back over my shoulder where Tony was staggering to his feet, "Fang can handle that." Gibbs was definitely the sort of guy who could fight, and I wanted to see what he had in him.

Before Gibbs could answer, Vance cut in, "While you're here, perhaps you could teach a few of us some useful moves."

I shrugged, "Sure, why not?"

"But no more sparring," Vance added, putting a stop to my internal happy dance (I mean, who wouldn't be happy to find out they get to fight someone without actually killing them, like most of my life had gone?), "we can't afford anyone getting hurt."

I nodded dejectedly, and thought about how I was going to do this. Gibbs had to leave with Vance, but McGee and Abby showed up in their places, leaving those two, Ziva and Tony.

Fang, being the more patient of us—shocker, huh?—took McGee and Abby to the mats across the gym. I started by instructing Tony on the proper way to grab Ziva in a hold _without_ fondling her butt. Not to say Tony was bad at fighting (he just had a more brute style to it), but this was going to be a lot of work. And it only made it better that for a split second, I could picture Gazzy in Tony's place, mischievous and eager, and Nudge in Ziva's, sassy and annoyed.

For the first time in weeks, my life felt good.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Look," I said to the uptight lawyer in the grey suit, "Why the hell would I say I saw him if I didn't actually see him?" Vance had told me not to be sarcastic, witty, or sharp-tongued while testifying (so basically, pretend to be a bound and gagged Max), but come on, I'd answered this freaking question five times already.

"Your Honor," the lawyer whined, gesturing to me.

The judge looked down his nose at me, I stared defiantly back. "Miss Ride, you are to cooperate."

I bit back a retort.

"No further questions Your Honor."

The judge sighed, "You may step down Miss Ride."

I ran back to the seats, kicking off my tight low heels as soon as I sat down. Everything about Court was hell; clothes, lawyers, people, shoes, lawyers, police, lawyers and I could go on, I really could.

The jury came back with a verdict within an hour: guilty on count of Murder 1 and attempted murder, not guilty of illegal parking.

You gotta love the justice system.

XXXXXXXXXX

We left NCIS the next day. I knew we'd never see any of them again, and I was okay with that. Sometimes, people are meant to come into your life to teach you something, and then leave. I think I was like that to NCIS and them to me. As awful as it was sometimes, things are just meant to happen.

I don't know what Fang and I will do now; maybe just travel the States together. We still need to work some stuff out, and fill each other in on the majority of what happened in those two years of separation.

I'm sure if we want we could buy a house and settle down; finally get the peace and quiet we've wanted all these years. I was thinking we could go back West.

But Ziva was right; my wings are restless.

I'm already ready for an adventure.

* * *

**So this is the last chapter, and it makes me really sad to see it go. I want to thank everyone for all the reviews and support you gave to me, I really appreciate it. Unless you're a fanfiction writer too, you can't understand the smile that lights up my face every time I open up my email to find a review in it. So thank you!  
Also, I have to say I've been getting kind of dissapointed by the Maximum Ride series lately, and I've yet to pick up Angel. Do you think it was worth it? Should I read it? I'm not sure...  
****Thank you everyone for your amazingness! (and you should totally continue it by reviewing this last chapter that I will ever post in this fanfic category *sniff, sniff*)**

**Thanks,  
Riley61  
P.S. This is the FIRST chapter of this story I haven't had to fix the formating a bijillion times for it to stay. It's like a farewell present for the last chapter :)**


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